


The Re-education of Draco Malfoy

by Veritas03



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Curse Breaker, M/M, Professor - Freeform, Quidditch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 16:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veritas03/pseuds/Veritas03
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the war, it has been noted that many of the young witches and wizards who attended school during the second rise of Voldemort have received sub-standard educations. As a result, Hogwarts opens an adult education program in the summer to bring these students up to par in the workforce. Draco Malfoy, desperate to pass the NEWT for DADA, is among them. But his hopes are dashed when, on the first day of class, Draco discovers – to his horror – the new DADA professor has never even taught before – and is a student himself, <i>still</i> trying to pass Potions. And anyway – just how is Draco supposed to stay focused in class when Professor Potter is so totally hot?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Re-education of Draco Malfoy

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the 2011 HD Smoochfest on Live Journal. It was a gift for Fireflavored based on her excellent prompt.  
>  **Beta:** Sevfan! Also - a tremendous thank you to Sevfan for coming up with the title of this fic.  
>  **Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.

  
**The Re-education of Draco Malfoy  
**  
by Veritas03  


“You _must_ be joking.”

Bill Weasley cringed at his assistant’s sharp tone. Draco was usually quite adept at maintaining the polite, deferential air that was required to work effectively among the goblins at Gringotts. Not that Draco was naturally all that polite or deferential – at least not where most people were concerned. But Bill knew Draco _could_ play the game when it came to dealing with the prickly goblins.

“Mr. Malfoy, have you noted any evidence – since either the beginning of your employment at Gringotts or any incidents from your long-standing association as an account holder here – to indicate to you that goblins are given to joviality?” Blorik, the goblin newly in charge of the departments of Gringotts that included the Curse-Breakers, steepled his long bony fingers and peered condescendingly across the desk at Draco Malfoy. “Ever, Mr. Malfoy?”

Bill held his breath, hoping that Draco had recovered from the news Blorik had delivered and had his composure back intact. He was feeling uncomfortably responsible for this situation. It had been his idea to approach their goblin employers about changing Draco’s status. The younger man had worked diligently to learn the art of Curse Breaking and develop his skills. Though he lacked Bill’s years of experience, Draco had thrown himself into the work and spent his spare time reading all available material related to the field. All this, combined with the natural instincts he possessed for this particular type of magic, made Draco Malfoy one hell of a talented Curse-Breaker. Bill was adamant that he deserved to be promoted, rather than remaining an assistant. And, apparently, the goblin agreed. Blorik had only one stipulation – A.R.S.E.

Everyone now knew of the plans to offer an adult education program at Hogwarts during the upcoming summer break. It had, just within the past week, been lauded yet again in the _Daily Prophet_. Prior to that, Arthur Weasley had been keeping his family apprised of the concerns brought before the Ministry regarding the lack of educational preparedness of the witches and wizards who had attended Hogwarts during the second rise of Voldemort – particularly during the reign of the Carrows.

Immediately following the war, Kingsley Shacklebolt had announced his willingness to waive the NEWTs requirements for Auror training for anyone who had fought in the final battle. In the post-war optimism that characterized the Wizarding world, this had seemed like a perfectly logical way to honor those who had helped to defeat Voldemort and his followers. Most people were eager to see heroes like Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Neville Longbottom begin their training to become fulltime defeaters of evil. The idea of allowing young wizards and witches to just get on with their lives quickly became the accepted attitude. People were ready to move beyond the war, and the disrupted education of those young people was part of that.

But the war had ended five years ago. Shacklebolt’s generous reward for the heroes of the war had come to nothing. Though the NEWTs had been waived, trainees were still required to pass the standard Auror examinations. Most, even Harry Potter, were unable to do so. The _Prophet_ had begun a series of investigative reports on the success or, more often, the failure of these young wizards and witches to compete with those who had received proper educations. These articles were largely responsible for the plan that emerged. In an unprecedented move, the Ministry had strongly _encouraged_ the Hogwarts Board of Governors to come up with a plan to address this shocking state of affairs. The upshot was Adult Re-education to Standards of Excellence at Hogwarts. Which, technically, made the acronym A.R.S.E.H – but the “at Hogwarts” part was only added at the last moment when the problem with leaving the first four letters H-less had been noted and commented upon during the presentation of the plan to the Wizengamot. This was, unfortunately, after the reporter for the _Prophet_ who was covering the presentation had rushed the story to the presses – and missed the crucial addition of the “at Hogwarts” part. After the initial story, the _Prophet_ had dutifully reported the program as A.R.S.E.H. But that only seemed to fuel the jokes about ‘getting arse at Hogwarts.’

“My apologies, Blorik. It was a rhetorical question which would have been best left unsaid.” Draco was polite and unflappable once more. “I was so taken by surprise at your suggestion, that I momentarily forgot myself.”

“Not a suggestion, Mr. Malfoy,” Blorik said. “A requirement!” The goblin’s eyes took on a malicious glint. Evidently, Draco would be paying a price for his earlier outburst. “And not only to attain the full status as Curse-Breaker. If you wish to remain in the employ of Gringotts – even as an assistant – you must earn your NEWTs in Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts.” The goblin rose, indicating that the meeting was at an end, and Bill and Draco followed suit. “I shall expect confirmation from Headmistress McGonagall upon your enrollment in the Hogwarts adult education program. Good day, gentlemen.”

The walk back to their office was silent but for the solid, angry footfalls echoing in the corridor. Bill didn’t hazard a glance at his assistant’s face, but was certain that the cool mask was undoubtedly in place. Draco wouldn’t risk exposing his true feelings to any of the bank’s employees – goblin or otherwise. No, he’d wait until they were back in their office to let all that infamous Malfoy ire spew forth. Really, Bill couldn’t blame him.

Draco’s tirade was momentarily derailed, however, before he had a chance to begin. Their office was not empty. George Weasley lounged in Draco’s chair, his feet up on the desk. He didn’t move, other than to look back and forth between Bill and Draco.

“Trouble afoot?” he ventured. His question seemed to unfreeze the two men from where they’d stopped short just inside the door.

Bill pulled the door closed behind them, then moved across the room to sit heavily upon his own desk. He joined George in watching Draco pace around the room. George, of course, had no idea what had transpired moments before, but Bill knew that hardly mattered. The two younger men had developed an unlikely friendship (one that seemed to be based largely upon playing pranks on Ron), so George was quite familiar with Draco’s temperament. Both Weasleys knew that there was no point in trying to placate Malfoy at this point. He would have to blow. Another glance at George saw him counting down on his fingers. Sure enough, the moment the count was complete Draco whirled about and glared at, seemingly, the entire room.

“What the bloody fuck??”

Bill was uncertain how to answer this outburst, but George stepped right in. “Goblins,” he said, knowingly. “What have they done now?”

“Gone mad! NEWTs!” Draco began to pace again, and this time drew his wand. Something was about to die. “This is ludicrous! I’ve been doing this job for three years now, and now – all of a sudden – they’re questioning my NEWTs?” Draco stopped his pacing, and turned to Bill. “You know, I didn’t ask for advancement, I’m perfectly happy to remain your assistant.”

“But you should be my partner instead,” Bill said.

“Well, we’re a far cry from that now, aren’t we?” Draco had resumed his pacing. “Now I don’t even have a job!” The rubbish bin was the first casualty. A flick from Draco’s wand disintegrated it even as he prowled the room looking for something else to annihilate.

George kept his eyes on Draco, but directed his question to Bill. “Another victim of the shoddy educational system?” Draco paused to glare at George but loosed his wrath upon the potted plant in the corner.

“Yes. Blorik is insisting that Draco complete the NEWTs he still needs to be fully-qualified as a Curse-Breaker.”

“No!” Draco shouted. “Not even a Curse-Breaker. Either I attend that fucking remediation program at Hogwarts and pass my NEWTs, or I lose even my position as assistant. Fucking goblins!” This time it was one of the framed photos of a view of Gringotts that was destroyed, leaving a bit of a scorch mark upon the wall.

“I agree it’s unfair,” Bill said, hoping a calm tone would settle Draco a bit. “If I’d known this was going to be the result, I wouldn’t have even approached them about promoting you. At least, not while this whole issue with Hogwarts is raging.”

“You’re going to do it, though, aren’t you?” George asked and didn’t flinch at all from Draco’s venomous glare. “Stop looking at me like that and just listen. I’ve heard that a lot of people are considering using these next few months to revise and try for their NEWTs. If you pass, you wouldn’t have to attend Adult Re-education to Standards of Excellence,” he paused and smirked before adding, “at Hogwarts. And you’re already a head of the game, right? You have your NEWTs in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. Who would have ever thought those would be of any practical use?”

“It’s something to think about, Draco,” Bill said. “It’s not quite March. The summer session won’t begin until the third week of June.”

“Well, actually, the _Prophet_ is reporting just today that the summer session will begin the _first_ week of June. The plan is to move the exams for the regular students to the last week of May, then allow the youngsters to leave when the exams are complete,” George explained. “Instead of waiting around at Hogwarts for their results, they’re being sent on home. Evidently the Board of Governors thinks those extra two weeks are crucial to make up for all the educational deficits of the adult students.”

Bill was pleased to note that some of the tension had eased from Draco’s body. He was still moving about the office, but seemed to be wandering more than prowling. “George has a good point,” Bill said. “You could easily pass the Charms NEWT. I honestly don’t know why you didn’t take it earlier.”  
“Yes, you do,” Draco said, sounding more tired now than angry. “I didn’t want to take it, or have anything to do with Charms or anything that reminded me of that blasted cabinet or the war. If you had approached me right after the war about working with you in curse breaking, I wouldn’t have even considered it.”

“Alright, so it took you a year or so to get over your squeamishness about Charms,” George said. “But again, pertinent to your current circumstances, you could pass the NEWT for Charms in your sleep. Do it now, then you can focus all your energy on Defense Against the Dark Arts. That’s the only other one you would still need to be a Curse Breaker, right?”

Draco finally gave up his pacing and slumped into the chair opposite his own that was still occupied by George. He mumbled something, and the brothers looked at each other to see if either had heard Draco’s words.

“Didn’t catch that, mate,” George said.

Draco let out a forlorn sigh. The sullenness was settling in, but Bill took it as a good sign. The next stage would be the put-upon pout, and then Draco would hit his ‘I’m a Malfoy and I will kick this thing’s arse’ phase. More clearly, but with evident irritation in his voice, Draco said, “I don’t _want_ to do it.”

“Draco –” Bill began.

“No! Don’t tell me you’d want to give up three months of your life to go back to school,” Draco said. “And I’ve had quite enough of the Dark Arts, thanks.”

“So you’re prepared to just give up your job without a fight?” Bill said. “I know you don’t need the work, Draco, but I thought you had other reasons for wanting to have a job.” Bill had never heard Draco verbalize those other reasons, but it was clear the young man valued having something of his own – accomplishments which separated him from the previous generation of Malfoys. “And if you can pass both those NEWTs before the summer session begins, you wouldn’t have to attend it.”

His whole body seeming to deflate as most of the remaining angry energy escaped through a deep sigh, Draco stared solemnly at a spot on the floor. “Alright. I know I could pass the Charms NEWT.” His grimace looked suspiciously like the beginning of a pout. “But I don’t even see why I should have to take the NEWT for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Any idiot can tell you how I spent my time during the war. Voldemort lived _in my house_ , for fuck’s sake. It’s not as if I don’t have plenty of experience with the Dark Arts.”

“Experience, yeah. Knowledge of, no denying it,” George said. “But let’s face it, mate. Your _defense_ against the Dark Arts was to bend over and spread your arse cheeks.”

It hardly seemed possible that George toppling from his chair had resulted from Draco lashing out with his wand. The two actions had seemed almost simultaneous to Bill. He was still trying to process it all when George began to haul himself up off the floor. First his hand appeared clutching the edge of the desk, and then his head peeked up over it. He appeared not the least bit shaken by Draco’s attack. Rather, he wore a huge grin and looked upon his friend with clear admiration.

“Damn, you’re fast,” George said. “Never ceases to amaze me.”

“Well, we all know you’re easily impressed,” Draco said with a quick twirl of his wand.

Bill allowed himself a small smile. Draco would be alright. He already had a hint of that determined glint in his eye. If anyone had a fair shot at passing two NEWTs in only three months, it was Draco Malfoy.

George cocked an elbow in the direction of Bill’s ribs as he walked past, then hauled Draco out of his chair. “Come on, the both of you. Lunch on me at the Leaky.”

Draco shrugged his agreement, but Bill waved them on. “I’ve got that report on the Berkisfern piece I need to finish up. Go on. I’ll see you after.”

“Well,” Draco said, “maybe you won’t. I may just take the afternoon off.” George nodded his enthusiastic support for the idea. “Evidently, I won’t be missed around here. And I’ve got NEWTs to start studying for, after all.”

“Yeah, NEWTs,” George said, and gave a broad grin to Bill. “Studying. We’ll get right on that.”

“Draco,” Bill called out to the retreating back of his assistant, “don’t let him lead you astray! There is nothing NEWTs related at the bottom of a bottle of Ogden’s.”

“So says you,” George said as he pushed Draco through the door.

Bill’s call of “Don’t you have a business to run?” was cut off by the closing door.

****

HDHDHDHD

**Two Months Later**

Harry grinned, reveling in the familiar hominess of the Burrow. Multiple Weasleys and other friends overflowed from the house into the garden, drawn outside in part by the warming weather of late May. They had all gathered to welcome Harry home from his two-year stint as an Auror in the United States. He was so happy to be in England again, among his friends and family, that he didn’t even mind being the center of attention. The first couple of hours were a bit overwhelming, everyone trying to talk to him all at once. Now, though, his friends were gathered in small groups – laughing, talking, enjoying the day. Harry stood a little apart reviewing the familiar faces, smiling at snatches of light-hearted conversation he could overhear.

“I don’t think you’ve stopped smiling since you got here,” Hermione said as she joined him. “It’s very nice to see that.” She slipped an arm around his waist.

Harry drew her into a hug, leaving his arm draped across her shoulders when they moved apart. “It’s good to be home. I didn’t think I’d miss it so much when I left.”

Just then a small body crashed into Harry’s leg. He looked down to find Teddy smiling shyly up at him. The moment Harry reached down and touched a lock of bright green hair, the five-year-old giggled and shot off. Harry chuckled but shook his head, looking a bit perplexed.

“Don’t worry,” Hermione said. “Andromeda says he talks non-stop about you. As soon as he gets used to having you here, he’ll be talking your ear off, too.”

Harry shot her a look clearly tinged with regret. “I didn’t think about him when I left. I was in such a hurry to get away from the damned Ministry and all that political nonsense. Now he doesn’t even know me.” He sighed. “I really messed up, Hermione.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Harry. Taking that opportunity was something you really needed at the time. And if nothing else, it helped you to determine what you _really_ want to do,” she said.

Hermione sounded so certain. Harry supposed that was not surprising. She’d been just as certain when she’d told him she supported his decision to go to America two years before. Sometimes he almost wished she’d question everything he did now – like she used to do when they were in school.

“But what if I still haven’t figured it out?” Harry said. “I was so sure I wanted to be an Auror – so much so that I went all the way to the States to make it happen.”

“Well, I would hardly have expected you to stay here and play the Ministry’s game,” Hermione said.

He shook his head. “Did Ron tell you that Gilchrist has already contacted me?”

“You’ve been back less than a week!”

“I don’t know if they know for certain that I’m taking Potions in the summer session, or if they’re just making a guess. But it was clear from his message that, whether I passed the NEWT or not, they want me to come back to the Auror department. He even used my experience with the Aurors in America as justification as to why I would now be ‘qualified’ to take the position here.” Harry grimaced in distaste. “They still don’t get it. I didn’t want their special treatment two years ago, and I don’t want it now.”

Like many others, Harry had taken Kingsley Shacklebolt up on his offer to go into Auror training, even though he hadn’t taken the required NEWTs. He had excelled in the training, again, like many others. But he had ultimately failed to qualify due to his abysmal Potions skills. Harry had been devastated at the time, bitterly disappointed in himself for making it through the three years of training only to fail the Potions section of his Auror Examinations. Then – to add insult to injury – Ministry officials, including Head Auror Tristan Gilchrist, had made the crucial mistake of offering to allow Harry to join the Aurors despite the fact that he hadn’t fully qualified. In truth, Harry had considered it. At the time, it hadn’t seemed that different from Kingsley’s offer to waive the NEWTs. Until, that is, Harry had discovered that no one else was being given this special consideration. Gilchrist had rationalized that, because Harry had defeated Voldemort, he was uniquely qualified in a way no one else was. But Harry had seen this as the favoritism it was, once more being treated differently because he was the Boy Who Lived by Ministry officials who were just playing politics. Harry doubted Gilchrist and the others would ever understand that he could never even consider such a thing and still be able to face his friends who had not been offered any special favors.

Hermione glanced about and, in a conspiratorial whisper, said, “Well, fortunately, you’ve had a better offer.”

Her comment brought Harry’s smile back even as he motioned her to silence. “Shh! You and Ron are the only ones who know about it. Really, Hermione, you used to be so much better about keeping secrets.”

She poked him in the ribs. “And I still am!”

“Oi!” Ron’s voice boomed from behind them. “Hands to yourself! That’s my wife you’re making a move on.”

“Not my type, mate,” Harry said, moving to allow Ron to take his place beside Hermione. “You know I’d rather make a move on one of your brothers.”

Ron held up a hand to halt him. “And you know I don’t want to hear about _that_ any more than I wanted to hear about it when you were dating my sister. I prefer to believe that my family members are all asexual.”

“I don’t really think you can make that argument about your parents,” Harry said, enjoying Ron’s responding cringe.

Loud laughter drew the attention of their little group. Harry looked across the garden to see George engaged in relating some animated tale to the obvious enjoyment of his audience. The sight of one of those in George’s group – blond hair shining in the afternoon sunlight and a brilliant smile lighting his not-so-pointy-after-all face – nearly stole Harry’s breath.

“Malfoy,” he said in a stunned whisper.

Hermione exchanged a glance with her husband. “We didn’t think you’d mind, Harry. Draco’s around quite a lot these days.” She frowned a bit. “You made your peace with him just like the rest of us, didn’t you – before you left for America?”

Harry managed to swing his gaze back to his friends – but was not completely successful in keeping it there. He couldn’t seem to stop glancing back at Draco. “Yeah – of course I did. I just… he looks… he’s so…”

Hermione, clever girl, caught on immediately and smirked. “Oh yes, he is very attractive, isn’t he?”

“Oh no, Hermione! Don’t start that! I do not need to hear _again_ how my wife thinks Draco Malfoy is so attractive.” Ron made a face that looked as if he had just eaten a lemon whole. “And I really doubt that’s what Harry…” Ron looked sharply at his friend. “No. NO! Harry!” Ron snapped his fingers in front of Harry’s face, finally succeeding in drawing his attention away from Draco. “Please, mate! I’ve lost nearly my whole family to that sneaky blond git. Don’t let yourself be sucked in!”

Harry turned a speculative gaze back in Draco’s direction. “Poor choice of words, mate,” Harry muttered, obviously distracted. Being sucked in by Draco Malfoy – or by his sexy mouth, at least – sounded very appealing to Harry, indeed. Beside him, Ron dramatically clapped his hands across his face, groaning piteously. Harry completely ignored this, however, as Ron’s antics had attracted the attention of – among others – Draco.

Draco’s focus noticeably transferred from George’s resumption of his story to Harry. Their gazes locked and those perfect lips parted. Harry mumbled something sounding like “should really say hello” to Ron and Hermione and made a straight line right for Draco. Never breaking eye contact, Draco moved as if without thought to meet Harry midway.

****

HDHDHDHD

Draco had put off making an appearance at the ‘Welcome Home’ party for Harry Potter and, despite what George would say, it was not so he could make a dramatic entrance. He just wasn’t feeling particularly celebratory. Adult Re-education to Standards of Excellence at Hogwarts would begin in just over a week and, much to his chagrin, Draco would be attending.

As predicted by everyone who knew him, Draco effortlessly passed his Charms NEWT. Then he had put every bit of his focus and effort to studying for the NEWT for Defense Against the Dark Arts. He’d stopped short of joining any of the study groups that had sprung into being. Evidently he wasn’t the only former Hogwarts student who resented having life interrupted with this nonsense. Draco had found few of his former classmates who were looking forward to the idea, so there was a mass scrambling to study for and pass the NEWTs before June 1st arrived. Some, like Draco, were successful and managed – by prodigious studying or applying knowledge learned on the job – to pass some NEWTs. Most were left, again like Draco, needing remediation in one or two areas. Some of his fellow participants in A.R.S.E.H. would not even be required to pass a NEWT relative to what they would be studying. Many employers were only requiring that the students attend and pass the summer program. Regardless of the reason for attending, A.R.S.E.H. would not want for students.

Draco had been brooding about this again when the Floo in his London flat had flared green. He’d expected it to be George telling him to get his arse to the Burrow or suffer the consequences (consequences that would, no doubt, involve sneak attack by some new Wheeze created to cause maximum humiliation). Draco had discovered friendship with George did not exempt one from being a potential target of his somewhat predatory sense of humor.

Instead of George, however, Molly Weasley’s face had materialized in the green glow of the coals. “Draco? It’s Molly. Are you there, dear?”

Draco had immediately straightened from his recumbence on the couch and answered her. “Yes, Molly, I’m here.” He sank to his knees in front of the Floo.

“Well, why are you there and not _here_?” Molly always got right to the point. “The party is in full-swing!”

“Well, I –” Before he could offer any excuse, Molly cut him off.

“This isn’t about any old ill feelings between you and Harry is it?”

“No, Molly. I just –”

“Good! That childhood nonsense is best left in the past.” She nodded once, firmly.

Draco wouldn’t have dared to challenge her on whether all that he and Potter had said and done to each other qualified as mere ‘childhood nonsense.’ That would be pointless. She was right, after all, about it being best left in the past. In fact, he felt fairly confident that he and Harry had already accomplished that. “It’s not that, Molly. I’m just –”

“Sulking. Or is it pouting?” Molly was obviously squinting her eyes to get a better look at him through the distortion of the Floo. “Never mind. You’re the only one who hasn’t arrived yet. Pull yourself together and get over here! You don’t want me to send Ginny over, do you? I’ve got to get back to the party, dear. See you soon!”

One did not ignore a summons from Molly Weasley. And she was right. He needed to stop brooding (of course he wasn’t sulking or pouting – the very idea!) and join the party. At least it would take his mind off of A.R.S.E.H for a while. Draco moved with purpose into his bedroom for a hasty change of clothes. He didn’t want to give Molly time to follow through on her threat to send Ginny over. Ginny always felt the need to go through his wardrobe and try to convince him to wear the most scandalous combinations of clothing. As if he needed help deciding what to wear from Ginny Weasley or anyone else!

So it was that, within twenty minutes of Molly’s Floo call, Draco Malfoy had finally arrived at the Burrow. He’d looked around for Harry, thinking to get the obligatory ‘welcome home’ sentiments out of the way. The Burrow was, literally, overflowing with people and he’d quickly decided the best plan of action was to find a comfortable spot outside and wait for Harry to wander by. As he passed through the party, he’d greeted Bill and taken a moment to compliment Fleur on the newest bundle of babyness in her arms. He’d dodged Teddy and Victoire as they ran giggling past. Aunt Andromeda had offered her cheek to be kissed, and he’d stopped for a bit to catch up with her. Finally, he’d made his way through an alarming amount of Gryffindors to the place where George and Lee Jordan were entertaining a group of their friends with a loud and rather hilarious conversation about one of their raucous, somewhat illegal escapades. Draco had been laughing along with the others, when something across the way caught his attention.

And that’s when he saw Harry Potter for the first time in two years. Two years that had been _extremely_ good to the Gryffindor golden boy. Even before he’d left, three years of training for the Auror program (and likely three years of finally being free of the constant threat of death from an insane dark wizard) had seen a vast improvement in Harry’s overall appearance. His body had filled out nicely under the Auror training regimen. Despite the grueling schedule, Harry had finally looked healthy and rested instead of drawn and weighted down by responsibility. And he had found an easy smile that Draco couldn’t help but notice (especially since it quickened his pulse), even when it wasn’t turned his way.

Now, Harry stood there, fresh from Auror duty in the States. Draco was certain he’d grown taller, and there was a confidence and sense of power he could feel across the space that divided them. That space suddenly seemed too far and, without a word to George and the others, Draco began to make his way across it – drawn, as he always had been – toward Harry. Since Harry had moved toward Draco at the same time, his green eyes glittering with obvious interest, they were quickly standing together. Then Harry smiled and Draco thought his knees might give out.

****

HDHDHDHD

Draco wasn’t certain, when he replayed it in his mind later, but it seemed as if they may have stood without speaking for a while. Finally, he managed to say, “Welcome home.” Harry’s smile grew and Draco thought he might have to grab onto him in an effort to stay upright. He wondered how Harry would respond if he did.

“Thanks,” Harry said. Then there was more silence as they studied each other. Oddly, the silence wasn’t uncomfortable – but it was definitely loaded with… tension. And not the kind that had characterized the encounters of their youth. Eventually, because he thought he ought to say _something_ , Harry added, “I was hoping you’d be here.”

That had been, perhaps, a bit of a stretch, Harry admitted to himself. He had assumed that a gathering at the Weasleys’ would, as always, be an open invitation to all their friends – and these days that included Draco Malfoy. Harry hadn’t really given much thought to the guest list. He was just pleased to see everyone. And right now, that _particularly_ included Draco.

Even back in the days when he was a pain in the arse, Harry had acknowledged (to himself at least) that Draco was one of the best-looking boys at Hogwarts. After the war, when Draco started to work with Bill and no longer wore a perpetual sneer, Harry had often found himself reflecting that Draco was very good-looking. They had managed to agree to try to put the past behind them and were cordial whenever they happened to meet. But Harry had been busy with the third and final year of Auror training and had no time to develop romantic interests. Then he’d rushed off to pursue his dream of becoming an Auror elsewhere. He couldn’t say he never thought of Draco; almost all the men he had dated in New York had been tall, slender blonds – and they’d all seemed to come up short when Harry compared them to his memories of Draco. Now, here was the man himself, standing in front of Harry and looking even more sexy than he remembered. And that smirk – the one that had always made Harry fantasize about the wicked things Draco might do with his mouth – was out in force, accompanied by the Malfoy eyebrow lift. A dangerous combination.

“You were hoping I’d be here?” Draco asked, challenge twinkling in his eyes. “Why?”

“Why?” Harry stalled. Of course Draco would call him on a statement like that – and Harry loved it. He wasted a few more moments in blatant observation of Draco’s mouth, noticing that the smirk deepened a bit at this attention. “Because I…”

A small body collided once more with Harry’s leg, relieving him of having to answer with something like the idiotic ‘because I really want to introduce you to my cock’ that had been all that he was coming up with.

Once more he looked down to find Teddy smiling up at him. This time, however, the little boy took Harry’s hand and said, “That’s my cousin Draco.”

Harry grinned. “I know.” He was certain he was blushing and suddenly couldn’t bring himself to look at Draco.

Teddy continued, very seriously. “He likes cake, but he doesn’t like sausages.” Turning to Draco, he asked, “Can I have cake?”

“Certainly,” Draco said instantly. Had he really been considering, just moments before, trying to seduce Harry Potter in plain view of everyone gathered to welcome Harry home? Yes, he was quite alarmed to admit. He had. And it hadn’t looked as if he was going to need to try very hard. What was he thinking? He grabbed Teddy’s other hand and started to lead him toward the house and the double chocolate cake that Molly had made.

“Aren’t you going to ask Grandmother if it’s allowed?”

Harry clearly heard the awe in Teddy’s voice as Draco led him toward the house. He’d also caught the matching blush on Draco’s cheeks as he had turned away. Realizing that he wasn’t the only one shaken by the interruption of their moment of… whatever it was, restored Harry’s composure. Before Draco could get out of earshot Harry called to him. “See you next week at Hogwarts!”

****

HDHDHDHD

“So, why is it that the Potions professors always seem to be Slytherins?” Harry asked.

Potions professor – and Slytherin – Terence Higgs held up the books he had just pulled from the packing box, and Harry indicated the large desk in the office of his Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. “Because no one else wants to spend so much time down in the dungeons. Though, with all the rebuilding after the war, it’s really not so bad down there. The new ventilation system in the Potions classroom was a _major_ improvement.” He sat the books down upon Harry’s desk and returned to the packing box. “Even hardcore, tower-dwelling Gryffindors like yourself feel more at home there now.”

Home. At the sound of the word, a besotted smile spread across Harry’s face. Terence obviously noticed it and gave him a questioning look. “That’s exactly how I feel,” Harry explained. “Hogwarts has always seemed like home to me.”

“Even now, with all the changes since the war?” Terence asked.

The school had taken a great deal of damage during the final battle but, with magic inherent in the very stones, it had practically rebuilt itself after the war. Though from the outside it looked much like it had before, there had been significant changes on the interior – as if the school had taken the opportunity to update its structure. Very little new material had been required, so the corridors and classrooms were still formed from the ancient stones of the original structure. It still _felt_ like the same old building.

“Well, it’s not vastly different,” Harry said. “I have to admit, I’m relieved that the DADA classroom has changed. I never would have been able to walk into the office that was attached to the old class without seeing Umbridge and those pink, kitten-covered walls.” He shivered a bit in disgust.

“After my time, thank Merlin,” Terence said. “I was six years ahead of you, remember?”

Harry considered his colleague. Terence Higgs was a good-looking man with thick, dark blond hair and warm brown eyes. He no longer had a slight Seeker’s build, though, to be honest, Harry couldn’t remember if Terence had ever been other than as well-muscled as he was now. When they’d faced each other in Harry’s very first Quidditch match, all the Slytherin players had seemed huge to him. Of course, he’d only been eleven years old at the time, and most of the Slytherins had been upper classmen. Terence had been in his seventh year, so they’d only opposed each other for that one season. After that, it had been Draco Malfoy that Harry had faced across the Quidditch pitch during games against Slytherin.

“Lucky you,” Harry said. He opened another box of his belongings, but this one contained personal items that should have been taken to his quarters. He could hear Hermione’s voice in his mind admonishing him about the importance of clear labeling, and grinned at the thought.

“Well, I think that may be all for here, right?” Terence asked. “One advantage of inheriting a retiring professor’s position – they leave most of their books and materials behind.”

“Good thing, too, since I really haven’t had a chance to start collecting my own teacher stuff,” Harry said. “Yeah, I think these other boxes probably need to go up to my quarters.”

Terence cast a spell to levitate the few remaining boxes. “Lead the way.”

Harry gave him a grin. “Thanks for helping, Terence. I really appreciate it.”

“Not a problem, Harry. I remember what it was like to be starting out at Hogwarts as a new professor.” Terence followed Harry through the classroom. It was a larger, more open space than the DADA classroom the two of them had studied in while students here. “Although, I had more than a weekend to get settled in,” Terence added. “Having to wait until the end of the term and Professor Tinsworthy’s official retirement has put you at a bit of a disadvantage. Plus, I got to start out with children. Your first class is going to be full of your contemporaries. Are you at all nervous about that?”

They had reached the third floor corridor, outside the relocated DADA classroom, and Harry stopped to give him a rather wild-eyed look. “Well, now I am. Thanks, Terence.” Harry hadn’t really had time to worry about that yet. The letter from Headmistress McGonagall telling him of the staff opening, his hurried resignation of his Auror position in the States, and his move back to England had all kept him from really considering all that. When he thought of his new job, he pictured himself teaching children – young people like the ones he’d worked with in Dumbledore’s Army.

“Not to worry.” Terence waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “You’ll be brilliant. Has it been tough to keep your new job a secret?”

The other staff members of Hogwarts knew that Harry had been required to tell his friends and adopted family only that he’d be returning to Hogwarts as a Potions student. Harry hadn’t had difficulty keeping the secret – but he had _chosen_ to tell Ron and Hermione. Only the two of them knew that he was also the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

“No, though I wish Professor McGonagall would’ve allowed me to tell people about it. I mean, I understand her reasoning, but I think that’s only going to make it more of a big deal when people find out. It’s only going to add to the tension of that first day.”

Terence nodded his agreement. “You’re probably right about that. I don’t think the headmistress had any choice, though, Harry. I believe the Board of Governors is responsible for the press for secrecy. If your hiring is announced before hand, it gives the _Prophet_ time to report on it and analyze it.”

“I know,” Harry said. “And then people will have time to question the wisdom of hiring someone as a professor who will also be a student during the summer session.”

When they finally reached Harry’s quarters on the fifth floor, he opened the door and stepped aside to let Terence and the boxes pass through. These rooms did not have anything belonging to the previous professor. Harry had arrived at the school before the actual end of the term and Professor Tinsworthy was still in residence. The headmistress had assigned Harry quarters that were not in use at the time, but Harry liked them so well he had chosen to remain here instead of transferring to the rooms the previous DADA professor had now vacated. The sitting room in his new quarters was large and had a window with a fantastic view of the Quidditch pitch. The attached bedroom was comfortable and also had a small sitting area and ensuite.

Terence lowered the boxes to the floor and then flung himself down onto one of the comfortable chairs by the large fireplace. “I can’t really imagine there’d be too many complaints. Who in their right mind would try to argue that you aren’t qualified to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts? And I have to say – I admire you for taking the Potions class. Your position as DADA professor doesn’t require you to have a NEWT in Potions.”

“I know,” Harry said. “But it’s something I feel I have to do. To… conquer, I reckon.”

“You mean to _prove_ that you can do it,” Terence said with a grin.

Harry looked a bit embarrassed. “True,” he admitted. “And this summer session is the time to do it, yeah? I just have one question. Does my position as a fellow professor get me any additional help in your class?”

Terence laughed. “We’ll see. If nothing else, maybe I can set you up with a tutor.”

Harry laughed along with him, but Terence’s comment had immediately set his mind off in a very particular direction. During Harry’s earlier time at Hogwarts, the most proficient student in Potions had been Draco Malfoy. Of course, during those days, Draco had been a spoiled, unpleasant little arse. Things were different now. Like Harry and the rest of his classmates, Draco had matured. He had overcome the prejudices his father had tried to instill and was practically as much of an adopted Weasley as Harry himself.

About a year before Harry’s move to the States, Bill Weasley, to the surprise of everyone, had recruited Draco to work with him as a Curse Breaker. To the even greater surprise of everyone, Draco had agreed to join him, and the two had formed a very successful team. Harry hadn’t been present to witness Draco’s progression from Bill’s colleague to unofficial Weasley, but he had heard plenty about it from Ron. And even Ron admitted, though grudgingly, that Draco was not nearly as much of an arse as he had been when they were younger. Harry had been exceedingly pleased to hear it, but when he found himself thinking about Draco Malfoy and the word ‘arse,’ it wasn’t his personality that came to Harry’s mind.

In the two weeks he’d been back in England, Harry had spent a significant amount of time around the various Weasleys and, at the ‘Welcome Home’ party thrown for him at the Burrow, had seen Draco again for the first time in two years. Draco had made only a brief appearance at the party, but had gained Harry’s full attention. Harry had assumed Draco would attend and had already planned to make a point of shaking his hand and making a bit of conversation. Just some casual interaction to remind Draco that – as far as Harry was concerned – the bad blood of the past was behind them. It hadn’t happened _quite_ that way. Draco hadn’t been at the party long before the two of them had just gravitated toward each other. Harry supposed later that he shouldn’t have been surprised. There had always been an undeniable connection between them – a strong, albeit negative, emotional connection. Now it would seem that connection – no longer at all negative – was undeniably physical as well. They hadn’t done more than talk and, for the life of him, Harry could remember very little of what was actually said. But he’d enough experience to know that if the situation had been different, if they’d been strangers who’d met in a bar, there would have been a very good chance that they would have ended the evening with more than just talking. And he was certain that Draco had felt it as well.

Unfortunately, their reunion had been interrupted – and turned from its very probable physical culmination. Despite the obvious interest Harry had seen in his eyes, Draco had seemed almost relieved when Teddy had shattered the sexual tension of their moment. Harry had been left standing there, watching as Draco led Teddy away in search of cake. After that, he had avoided Harry and had been glimpsed only from a distance. Draco had left long before the party ended, thwarting Harry’s plans to offer to see him home.

Harry had been disappointed, but not defeated. He knew that he would have other opportunities to pursue Draco. Even before the party, George had mentioned to Harry that, despite a monumental effort, Draco had not passed his NEWT for Defense Against the Dark Arts and would be attending the summer session at Hogwarts. Harry had already given this some thought and hoped that, since they were both adults, there would be no restriction on dating or relationships between faculty and students. He decided not to ask anyone outright. Over the years, he’d come to grips with the fact that he was quite comfortable breaking the rules. But if he was going to break a rule, he found that it was better to be able to claim ignorance and beg forgiveness later – if necessary. And now Terence had given him the perfect reason to seek Draco out – outside of the DADA classroom. Perhaps, if Harry could convince Draco to tutor him in Potions, they could get to know the adults they had each become and see where that mutual attraction – which Harry was certain was no figment of his imagination – might lead. One thing was certain. Since Draco was taking Defense Against the Dark Arts, there was no way that he would be able to avoid Harry.

****

HDHDHDHD

Draco’s plan was to avoid Harry as much as possible. At least that was part of the plan. The _main_ plan was to learn all he could and pass his NEWT. He felt a little gnaw of irritation that Potter had to be part of his plan at all. He shouldn’t be. Draco was here to focus on learning. His job was on the line. Even though, as Bill had noted, Draco didn’t _need_ to work (no Malfoy ever had), the job had become extremely important to him. It provided a sense of accomplishment as nothing else had ever done. It had allowed him to become something other than a failed, former Death Eater. It had opened a door for friendship and acceptance – things he’d never known he needed until now. If participating in an adult education program for three months was what it took to hold onto all that he had gained, Draco was committed to doing it.

So, along with almost two-thirds of the students from his year and those who had been a year or two behind him, Draco had returned to Hogwarts. These young adult students had not arrived at the school via the Hogwarts Express. Many had Apparated to Hogsmeade or had come through the Floo at the Three Broomsticks. Some – mostly those with families – had even made arrangements to stay in Hogsmeade rather than at the school. The afternoon had been arranged as an opportunity for the attendees of the summer program to receive their timetables and housing assignments and have the chance to greet old friends. Most began to arrive at the school a little after noon. There had been no set time for arrival, as long as everyone had reported to the school, checked in, and received their paperwork by six o’clock in the evening. Many had wandered the school, taking in the changes that had been made when so much of the ancient edifice had been rebuilt after the war.

Draco had not arrived particularly early, but was in time to watch as several of his former classmates appeared. Not everyone had returned. Some, like Luna Lovegood, had managed to pass the NEWTs they needed for employment or, like professional Quidditch player Ginny Weasley, had found success in careers that did not require NEWTs. Blaise Zabini, Draco had learned, was living on the continent in the luxury provided him by inheritances from his many step-fathers. Draco thought those circumstances were probably unique to Blaise.

All through the afternoon, Draco had told himself that he was not looking for a particular face – one capped with perpetually messy dark hair and set with piercing green eyes. Why would he be looking for that person, when he had vowed not to allow anything to distract him from his academic goal? And certainly that’s what Harry Potter was – had always been. A distraction. An annoying, challenging, brilliant, gorgeous distraction.

“Draco.” Pansy’s voice interrupted his musing. “Isn’t that the _weasel_ Weasley? The one we loathe? Shall I send a little greeting his way?” Pansy raised her wand and made as if to, no doubt, send a hex in Ron’s direction.

They were seated in the Great Hall with all the other attendees of Adult Re-education to Standards of Excellence at Hogwarts, waiting for the welcoming feast to begin. Draco was relieved to find that being back at the school had not reduced him to feeling like an adolescent who had never left. He thought, perhaps, that it was the changes in the building itself as much as the changes within him that made the difference.

One of the changes in the school was the configuration of tables in the Great Hall. Instead of four long tables, there were several. Eight tables were in place across the front, under close supervision of the faculty. Each table sat ten students and during the regular school term would be where the first- and second-year students took their meals. The next row of eight tables were for the third- and fourth-year students, then a farther row back, closer to the door than to the faculty table, were tables for the fifth- and sixth-years. Across the end, perpendicular to the majority of the student tables and reflective of the position of the staff table, were the four tables for the seventh-year students.

Headmistress McGonagall and several of the faculty entered the Great Hall and began to make their way toward the staff table to deliver the welcome speech and, hopefully, give the students an idea of what to expect. Instead of a stately procession, the professors paused here and there to return greetings from their former, and once more current, students. Warm, genuine smiles were exchanged and some of the tension that had hovered in the room seemed to dissipate.

Draco put his hand on Pansy’s and gently pulled her wand back down. “None of that, Pans. You promised to be on your best behavior – when you’re not looking for your next husband. And I’ve told you before: Ron is no longer ‘the weasel’ and is not to be hexed. At least, not by anyone other than me.”

Pansy huffed in annoyance. “You know, you’re no fun since you became a de facto Weasley.”

“You’re still put out because I pulled Charlie Weasley and you didn’t.”

“Maybe,” she allowed. “Well, what about the weas- Ronald? Are you working on pulling him as well? Should _I_ be working on that?”

Draco’s grimace fully expressed his disgust at the idea of pulling Ron Weasley. “You know very well he’s married to Hermione,” he said.

Pansy looked around. “Well, then why is he here without her?” She smirked and cocked her head to the side. “Let me guess. Granger took NEWTs in every course and passed them all?”

Draco returned the smirk. “I don’t know how many she took, but yes, she passed all the ones she did take.” He grinned wickedly as he added, “And Ron’s here without her because she made him come. Of course, he argued that, as partner with his brother in a very successful business enterprise, he had no need to take his NEWTs, but she wouldn’t relent. George had a field day with it – encouraging her to stand firm and make Ron ‘be a success in spite of himself.’ Best part of that is – George never took _his_ NEWTs. He and Fred quit school and started their business without all that.”

“Mmmm, yes. George Weasley.” The gleam in her eyes was calculating. “What am I doing here, Draco, when I should be back in London offering to help dear George while little brother is away?”

“I have yet to figure out why you’re here, Pans. Since your dearly departed husband left you moderately well off, you have no need, interest, or intention of ever having a job or pursing advanced studies. As for George, I’m sure he’ll manage without the help of someone who only knows money from the spending side,” Draco said. “And I’ve told you before – George is not one of your matrimonial targets. He deserves someone who sees him as more than just a large Gringotts account.”

“How large?” Pansy asked, her smirk turning wicked.

The headmistress was calling for attention. Draco whispered his answer. “Forget it, Pansy.”

A look of pleased surprise brightened the face of Headmistress McGonagall when a spontaneous burst of applause greeted her as she stepped up to the podium. She held her hands up for silence and began her speech by assuring them that the staff at Hogwarts was pleased to be able to provide them with the opportunity to complete the educational process that had been interrupted by the war. Over the next several minutes she spoke to them about the goals of the program and then began to inform them of procedural matters. Housing, meals, all logistical issues were addressed.

When all the pertinent items had been covered, the headmistress glanced back at the faculty table. It appeared to Draco that some of the staff gave her small nods of encouragement. When she turned back to face the students, the headmistress had her lips pressed firmly together and her gaze turned up to its penetrating best. Draco just caught himself from squirming like a guilty school boy.

“There remains one issue which must be addressed,” Headmistress McGonagall began. “Conduct.” The word rang clear and ominous in the Hall as she swept a look over her audience. “Since you are all adults now, the staff anticipates little need for detentions or other consequences due to inappropriate behavior.” She paused for a moment, and Draco had the distinct impression that she was uncertain of how to proceed – or perhaps reluctant to continue. “And yet – because you are adults – there must be some clearly defined expectations regarding conduct of a… sexual nature.”

The sound of an owl feather falling upon the stone floor would have been easily discernable in the silence that governed the room. No one moved, and there seemed to be a collective breath being held in. The idea of returning to Hogwarts as young twenty-somethings had never seemed more surreal than it did at that moment. Minerva McGonagall was going to talk to them about sex.

“Some of you are married, some have children of your own. We are aware that this is an issue that must be... regarded differently than when you were here as teenagers.” She paused and somehow managed to straighten her already impossibly straight posture. “Due to an unfortunate misrepresentation of the name of the summer program in the _Daily Prophet_ , our school has recently been the focus of some very inappropriate attempts at humor. This has fueled speculation that students participating in Adult Re-education to Standards of Excellence at Hogwarts, living close together within the confines of the school for the next three months, may feel the urge to…” the headmistress broke off, obviously searching for the right words. “Well. The staff of Hogwarts expects you to practice restraint in any… extracurricular pursuits. Please allow your regard for the honor and traditions of Hogwarts to be the guide of your conduct. Remember – there are those watching who are expecting you to falter. Do not give them the satisfaction.”

Apparently feeling that she had adequately conveyed the staff expectations regarding that particular matter, the headmistress lifted her hands and food appeared on the tables before them. Draco noticed looks of relief on many faces, which quickly turned to delight. Mealtime at Hogwarts – it was all suddenly real to these summer program participants. They were back at school, students soon to be engaged in serious academic endeavor. The freedom of adulthood to which they had become accustomed was about to be severely curtailed. There would be some major adjustments. But for now, they enjoyed the camaraderie of taking a meal together much as they had in their true school days.

Pansy leaned into him, her voice just loud enough for him to hear over the clattering of dishes. “Nice speech. I know _I’m_ a big fan of ‘faltering’ and getting satisfaction.”

“Pansy, some of us are here to learn the material needed to pass our NEWTs. There won’t be time for any faltering,” Draco said sternly.

“Oh please! It’s as much a tradition of a Hogwarts education as Quidditch and the giant squid. There’s always time for faltering, Draco.” She smirked wickedly. “And a fair amount of satisfaction, as well, thank Merlin!”

Draco sighed in exasperation. “Just eat, Pansy.”

The rest of the meal passed pleasantly. Their table mates were a mix of former members from all the Hogwarts houses. It seemed the students in the adult education program were not interested in adhering to former house alliances. Draco had to admit he was glad of that. Surely they were all past house rivalries?

“Well, well,” Pansy whispered. “I wondered when Potter would show up.”

Draco followed her gaze to the side of the Hall. Harry hadn’t been there earlier. Draco was certain he would have noticed. Harry must have slipped in late. It was almost a relief to finally see him there, despite the increase it caused in Draco’s heart rate. It had been more than a bit nerve-wracking to anticipate his arrival, especially as the afternoon had worn on. It came as no surprise that he had seated himself next to Ron. Draco tried not to notice that easy smile, but after a few moments forgot to worry about whether or not he should give in to his desire to just gaze at Harry.

The need to connect with Harry – that in their school days had often manifested in confrontation – should have finally waned during these last two years. Before Harry had left, during Draco’s first year working with Bill, the two of them had, greatly encouraged by the Weasleys, become a bit more at ease with each other. With each of them training in challenging careers, they had not had much opportunity to socialize, but had at least learned to be polite to each other when they happened to meet. It was only in the two years Harry had been gone that Draco had really become more a part of the extended Weasley group. The family did seem to collect people, and Draco had been surprised when he one day realized that it had happened to him. If Harry had been around during that time, Draco suspected – based on their charged meeting at Harry’s ‘Welcome Home’ party – they would have got around to doing a fair amount of _their_ socializing in bed. Evidently, Harry’s time away had not diminished the pull between them, but it had changed the nature of it.

As if tuning in to that current of attraction, Harry broke off his conversation with his best friend and, suddenly, looked directly at Draco. That slow, confident smile – the one that made Draco’s heart pound as it urged his blood to flow quickly in a southerly direction – eased onto Harry’s face.

Draco gave a quick nod – that was all the acknowledgement he dared to offer – and turned his attention determinedly to the conversation at his own table between Susan Bones and Dennis Creevey. He was incredibly embarrassed to realize that he must have been staring at Harry for some time and silently berated himself for becoming so distracted. He was here on serious business and could not afford to let his attraction to Harry deter him from his goal. Fortunately, they would be taking and revising for completely different classes, so he wouldn’t have to see Harry then. Draco wasn’t certain he’d be able to avoid Harry in the evenings, but he was prepared to make a prodigious effort.

A.R.S.E.H. was simply not an endeavor to be taken lightly. The curriculum would be somewhat condensed since they had only three months to learn the material. This meant it would also be more intensive. Most of the students were taking no more than two classes because the amount of material still to be covered was considerable. Then and there, Draco strengthened his resolve to ignore this irritating attraction between him and Harry. Still, it was all he could do to keep his gaze firmly fixed on his tablemates and not allow it to stray pathetically back over to Harry.

****

HDHDHDHD

“Draco!”

The voice calling after him across the Entrance Hall was not particularly familiar, but the moment Draco turned and saw the face of the man walking toward him, he immediately recognized Terence Higgs. They greeted each other with a warm handshake as other students and faculty members moved past them toward the dormitories and private staff quarters. With dinner finished, most people were anxious to get settled in. There had been talk of setting up study groups and Draco decided it was time to give that a try.

The students were to be housed according to whatever dormitory was most convenient to the class or classes they were taking. Draco’d had all day to get used to the fact that he would be staying in the Gryffindor dormitory. Since DADA was the only class Draco was taking, he had no choice in his housing assignment. Students who were taking more than one class might be scattered among the different dormitories, but Draco knew that everyone in Gryffindor – despite what other classes they were taking – were all scheduled to take Defense Against the Dark Arts. Though there were still a few floors separating the two, he had to admit that Gryffindor was closer to the classroom than the Slytherin dormitory was.

“It’s good to see you, Terence,” Draco said, smiling. “It’s been a long time.”

Terence nodded. “Since before the war, really. The Triwizard Tournament, I think? I’d come back to ask Professor Snape for a letter of introduction to the Potions master I wanted to study with in Provence.”

“And to catch a bit of the Tournament as well, if I recall,” Draco said. “I remember you being very interested in staying long enough to see the contestants battle the dragons.”

“Who could resist it?” Terence said. His smile dimmed as he quietly added, “Left before the end of the Tournament, though. The maze.”

There was an awkward silence for a few moments. Finally Draco said, “Better to have missed that.” He paused for just a moment. “So, you were in Provence during the war?” Terence confirmed this with a nod, which he returned. “Yes,” Draco added. “Better to have missed it all.”

Terence gripped Draco’s shoulder. “I was lucky to have had a choice.”

Someone called a greeting to Draco and he turned to see Daphne Greengrass give a small wave as she walked past them. He returned the greeting and noticed that her look of frank interest was turned not upon him – thank Merlin – but upon Terence.

Draco was amused when he looked back to see Terence eyeing the sway of Daphne’s robes as she walked away from them. With a small, deliberate cough, he regained the attention of the Potions professor. Quirking an eyebrow up, Draco asked, “Aren’t faculty members discouraged from leering at students?”

“Only when the faculty members are old enough to be the parents of those students. And I’m not.” Terence had his grin back and Draco felt himself relax again. “So you’re here for A.R.S.E.” Terence winked and chuckled at his own joke. “What are you taking?” Terence asked.

Draco grimaced. “Defense Against the Dark Arts. I can’t proceed as a Curse-Breaker until I pass that NEWT. It’s the only one I still lack.”

“Well, you’re in luck. Our new DADA prof really knows his stuff.” Terence smiled just shy of a smirk.

Intrigued by the Terence’s expression, Draco said, “That’s perfect. So, who is –”

Draco’s voice broke off mid-sentence. Terence turned to see what had garnered his attention and saw Harry Potter coming out of the Great Hall. “Hey, Harry!” he called. When he turned back, he saw that Draco was ever so slightly backing away. Before he could ask about it, Draco made his excuses.

“I should get to the dorm. I’ll talk to you later, Terence,” Draco said, turning to leave. Over his shoulder he said, “Let’s go for a drink, yeah?” Then he was off.

Puzzled, Terence watched Draco retreat, until Harry reached his side. The sight of Harry at just that moment jogged a memory. “You and Draco Malfoy – you were rivals, right?”

Harry had also noticed, with some disappointment, as Draco disappeared into one of the groups of people passing by. “Yeah, but that was years ago. We’re good now.” Harry was certain that they could be _very good_ , but he didn’t think Terence needed to know that. “Did you know him well back then?”

Terence shrugged. “Sure. Well, he was just a firstie when I was in my last year. I wasn’t around him all that much – except on the pitch. He really stood out among the younger students who joined us in training during the second part of the term. I think he was the only new team member they took on that next year, wasn’t he?”

Harry couldn’t honestly remember all the Slytherin team members during that second year. When they were on the pitch, it was Malfoy that held his attention. “Maybe,” Harry said. “It’s difficult to recall, what with all the uproar involved in his making the team…”

“You mean the brooms?” Terence’s grimace showed his irritation. “I heard about that – people thinking he bought his way onto the team. It wasn’t true, you know. I personally chose him to replace me at the end of my last year. He was unquestionably the best to try for the position – and better than me, if I’m honest about it.”

“He was definitely my toughest competition,” Harry said. “It just looked bad at the time – the brooms, I mean. And, to be frank, he was being such a little shit back then, people were more than willing to believe his father had bought them to secure Draco a place on the team. None of us had seen him play yet, so…”

“I’m not saying Lucius Malfoy wasn’t trying to show off and give the Slytherin team more of an advantage,” Terence said. “Maybe he was even motivated by gratitude for his son making the team. But I can tell you that Draco made the team on his own ability.”

Harry held up his hands in mock surrender. “You don’t have to convince me,” he said. “And it really was too long ago to even worry about, in my opinion.”

“Sorry,” Terence said, evidently realizing he’d become a little overzealous in his defense of his former housemate. “Slytherin loyalty, I reckon.”

Harry grinned. “Not a problem. To be honest, I was enjoying thinking about something other than the fact that tomorrow morning, I’ll be teaching my very first class.” Terence clapped him on the shoulder and gave one of his encouraging grins.

The corridors had long since cleared and the two young professors began to move toward their quarters. Harry bid his colleague goodnight as Terence turned toward the staircase that would take him down to the dungeons. He was the Slytherin Head of House, so his quarters were situated closer to that dormitory. Harry’s rooms were not in the high towers, but were, along with the majority of the other staff, on the fifth floor.

Harry briefly considered stopping by his classroom to check once more that everything was in order. He knew, however, that would only add to his nervous excitement. He really felt he was as prepared as it was possible for him to be.

He continued past the floor where his classroom was located and on up to the fifth floor. He had purposely delayed, talking with Terence, so that none of his former classmates would try to walk to the dormitories with him. Harry was certain that they all still believed he was just another student, but that fiction would have been quickly dismissed if someone had seen him proceeding to his private quarters. The fact that there were a few others who were not staying at the school would help to avert suspicion when he did not show up in the old Slytherin dormitory – the one being used by the students who were scheduled to take Potions. To be honest, Harry was relieved that he wouldn’t have to stay in Slytherin. On the few occasions that he had found himself in that dorm, the lack of windows had left him feeling somewhat claustrophobic. He acknowledged that the common room was now more comfortably elegant since the rebuild of the castle and still somewhat interesting with its underwater views of the lake. But Harry preferred windows that allowed glimpses of blue sky or a bright moon shining light on the grounds below.

Finally he neared his rooms and glanced quickly around to make sure no one was observing him as he entered. He lit the lamps, cast his robes onto the couch, and made his way to the cabinet that contained George’s ‘welcome home’ bottle of Ogdens. He was undeniably jittery and hoped that the fire whisky would burn away his anxiety. Not for the first time, he wished that he didn’t have his Potions class first thing in the morning.

There were four classes scheduled each day. The class periods were longer than the ones during the regular school year to accommodate the amount of material to be covered in a few month’s time. Harry would be teaching three classes – one before lunch and two after. He took some pride in the fact that, because of Dumbledore’s Army and the work that Neville had continued during the time that the Carrows were at Hogwarts, there were not as many students in need of Defense Against the Dark Arts. That also left him easily free one period to take Potions.

He was eager to have that first day of classes under his belt. Unfortunately, the Potions class would be the first of the day. He really wished he could have had taught the first three hours, then ended the day with Potions. No one had consulted him on the schedule, though, and it would do no good to waste more time brooding about it now.

Harry loosened his tie and walked, drink in hand, over to the window. Just for him, it seemed, the moon this night shone with silver brilliance. This moonlight could not be cold. Harry was certain – if he walked out into the night – he would be suffused with warmth. His moon-fed imagination soon had him picturing another person joining him. Tall and slim, glowing where the moonlight blazed upon his white-blond hair and pale skin. Draco would embrace Harry, wrapping him up in that shining warmth.

The clock on the mantle chimed the hour, drawing him back to reality. Harry shook his head to clear away the fantasy, laughing a bit at himself over the romantic image of holding Draco in the moonlight. He downed the remainder of his whisky and headed to bed, certain that the spirits he’d imbibed would aid him in falling asleep. And perhaps he could help that along with another activity that would, no doubt, also involve images of Draco Malfoy.

****

HDHDHDHD

He was surrounded by Hufflepuffs!

Draco straightened his parchment, quill, and ink bottle for the sixth time and tried to contain his irritation. He had to stay focused on his goal – which was not, as it had been when he was originally a student at Hogwarts, to be the best in every class. That in itself should make things easier this time around – no pressure from his father to be the best. His parents were pleased these days just to have Draco well and happy. If being a Curse Breaker or participating in A.R.S.E.H. was what Draco wanted, they simply smiled their encouragement and let him go to it. No, his current goal was clear. Take this class in Defense Against the Dark Arts, pass with flying colors, and kick NEWT arse.

He had arrived at the DADA classroom a bit early, but that had allowed him to choose the perfect seat. Not right at the front to make him seem uncertain or overeager. Not at the back where the professor might think him reluctant or disinterested. Draco’s seat – this perfect one – was on the right-hand side of the classroom, midway between the front and back. He chose the desk closest to the side of the room; he felt more comfortable there since he could turn just a bit and feel as if he had his back, more or less, to the wall. That little bit of paranoia was a holdover from the days when Voldemort and his Death Eaters had inhabited the Manor.

Draco had been surprised to find the classroom empty when he had arrived. He had thought that the first class would still be in session there. When a few other students had arrived, he had overheard their speculation that, because fewer students needed Defense Against the Dark Arts, there was no need for the school to schedule four sessions of it. Learning that he was one of those “fewer” who was still bollocks at DADA, had attacked the fragile confidence that Draco had shored up against his growing fears of continued failure.

Then more students had begun to arrive and Draco was certain that, to a person, they were all Hufflepuffs! Alright, he did recognize former Ravenclaws Michael Cornfoot and Kevin Entwhistle. Perhaps that strawberry blonde girl with the fashionable glasses was Ravenclaw as well, but Draco couldn’t remember her name. Of course there were no Gryffindors, the bastards. Of course _they_ would have all passed that NEWT. Not that Draco cared. The last thing he needed in this class was a bunch of smug, Dark Arts defeating Gryffindors.

What he needed was a good teacher. No – a superb teacher. The best DADA teacher money could buy. He wondered briefly if his family should have been shoveling money into the school fund for staff salaries. He’d heard good things about the recently retired Professor Tinsworthy, but Terence had indicated the new professor was exceedingly qualified. Surely the school wouldn’t hire someone less than competent… Draco felt the blood drain from his face as he thought of all the DADA teachers he’d had here at Hogwarts when he was a teenager. Only Remus Lupin stood out as being halfway decent. And Snape, of course. But the rest were a mixed bag of varying flavors of insanity.

But these were different times. Draco had to believe that this new professor would be the key to his success. He’d worked so hard, tried so many different strategies for learning the material. He had to believe there was something that would make the difference, and after speaking with Terence, Draco had let a wild hope begin to grow within him that this new professor was the answer. A mentor – that was what Draco needed! Someone with vast knowledge combined with the ability to _teach_.

Draco pressed his hands flat against the surface of the desk to keep from shuffling his papers yet again. Yes, he was nervous and anxious and wound so tight he could barely breathe – but he didn’t want anyone else to realize it. More students entered the classroom and – yes! Finally the Slytherin contingent had arrived! But now the Hufflepuffs were ensconced in all the desks around Draco’s perfect seat. All except the second chair at Draco’s desk. None of the Hufflepuffs had braved the scowl Draco had produced to keep them from coming that far into his space. He restrained himself, barely, from jumping up to motion one of his fellow Slytherins – any one of them, Draco wasn’t going to be picky – to join him at his desk. With a well-practiced casual glance and indifferent-seeming nod, Draco greeted Theo Nott, Daphne Greengrass, and Tracey Davis. Then he turned carefully back around to the front of the room and silently willed one of them to come and take the seat beside him.

“Hello, Draco,” Daphne said as she slipped gracefully onto the chair.

Draco managed to refrain from pumping a triumphant fist in the air and turned calmly toward her. “Daphne, nice to see you again.”

She laughed lightly. “Do you mean, nice to see me without my parents dragging darling Astoria to every social event you and _your_ parents have attended in the past year, hoping to seal a matrimonial bargain?”

“Frankly? Yes,” Draco said. “I understand they’ve managed to marry her off to some Belgian wizard.”

“With lots of money,” she confirmed. “Not as sweet a deal as marrying a Malfoy, of course. But Astoria seems happy, so my parents will just have live with it.”

Draco gave her a calculating look. “And what about you, Daphne? This is twice now that you’ve gone out of your way to speak to me. Are _you_ hoping to land the Malfoy heir?”

She patted his arm. “Unlike your dear friend Pansy, I’m not here to look for a husband. And we both know you’ll never be in the market for a wife.” He arched an eyebrow at her, but she paid it no heed and continued. “Much to the disappointment of my parents, I’m determined to pursue a career, rather than marriage.”

Before Draco could ask what career Daphne was pursuing that required a NEWT in Defense Against the Dark Arts, the bell to begin class sounded and every occupant of the room fell silent. He was certain a full minute passed before he heard the door to the classroom open and then shut. The professor had arrived. Draco desperately wanted to turn and watch as his academic savior swept into the room – no doubt in the manner of Severus Snape. The sight of other students gawking at their professor made up his mind to remain calm and collected and facing front. Although – the gasps and whispers from his classmates ramped up his curiosity, sorely testing his resolve. He could hear the approaching footsteps of the instructor. The man was coming up the aisle on the right-hand side of the classroom – he’d pass right next to Draco!

And suddenly he was there. Draco felt the gust of air as the professor walked quickly past him and allowed his gaze, finally, to light upon the man who would save him from the ignominy of his inability to conquer this subject. The man who was…

“Harry Potter,” Daphne whispered. “Is he…”

Draco intended to say ‘no’ but found he could only shake his head dumbly instead. And he kept shaking it until Potter reached the front of the room and turned to face the class. The whispers around him ceased along with Draco’s gesture of denial.

Surely Potter was just… making some kind of announcement. Their professor had been delayed. Class was to be postponed. A.R.S.E.H. had been canceled completely and no one was ever going to mention NEWTs again.

“Hi, everyone. Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. I’m Professor Potter.” Harry quirked a half-grin. “But since you all know me from our first time around here, I think I’d rather you just call me Harry.”

Everyone started talking at once – except Draco, who still sat, shocked into silence and trying to make some sense of this mad notion that Potter might be the DADA professor.

Harry held up his hands and called for quiet. “I know you have questions and I’ll try to give you some quick answers. We really do have a lot to cover, though, so I don’t want to delay too long.” He took a deep breath and ducked his head a bit as he raked a hand through his hair. “First let me apologize and tell you that it wasn’t my idea not to tell anyone that I had been hired to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. That was all to do with some concern about how the newspapers might spin a story where, really, none exists.”

“I just had Potions with you,” one of the Hufflepuffs said.

“Well, yeah,” Harry said. “In addition to being a professor here, I’m a student in the summer program just like the rest of you. Some of you may already know that I didn’t take the Potions NEWT and Potions was what kept me from passing my Auror exams a couple of years ago.” In a wry tone he added, “The _Prophet_ reported all about it at the time.”

“So are you just here to get your Potions NEWT and try again for the Aurors?” someone from the back asked. Draco thought it sounded like Theo Nott.

“No.” Harry’s voice was firm. “I’ve spent the last two years as an Auror and discovered that it wasn’t really what I wanted to do after all.” He smiled a bit then and gave a small shrug of his shoulders. “It just still bothers me that I didn’t pass that Potions NEWT, you know? This seemed like a good opportunity to try for it. And – it will also help me to relate to what all of you are going through. I’m right here with you.”

“You’ve been in the States, right?” Kevin Entwhistle said.

“Yes. I was really frustrated when I didn’t get into the Auror program here. On the suggestion of a friend, I did some checking and found out that some countries don’t have a Potions requirement for Aurors.”

“How is that possible?” Draco was sure that was Theo again.

“Well, in New York, where I was, the Magical Law Enforcement Department has a group of Potions experts that take care of all of that. They found that the instances of Aurors having to actually brew anything in the field were rare enough that it didn’t warrant spending time and resources on training them. And some of the Potions experts have field training so they can come right to the crime scenes, if necessary, to help with investigations. Of course, Aurors have to have some knowledge of potions, but nothing like NEWT level requirements.”

“That’s interesting,” another of the Hufflepuffs said.

“There really are some interesting differences between the Auror requirements in different countries. But that’s probably a discussion for another time.” Harry lifted his wand and a stack of parchments moved from his desk and was distributed among the students. “This is a copy of your syllabus, so you’ll know our areas of focus. The good news is that we know what is likely to be covered on the NEWT, so we can organize our study accordingly. It’s not as if you’re going to have to learn seven years of Defense Against the Dark Arts in three months.”

Draco looked at the parchment as it landed in front of him, but he didn’t really see it. He was still reeling from the nightmare that was his reality. Harry Potter was going to be his DADA professor. How was he supposed to be able to focus on learning when he was already imagining bending over a desk as a misbehaving student might be expected to do while the stern yet incredibly hot teacher administered a spanking?? Great Merlin’s balls! Draco didn’t even think he _had_ a spanking kink. The stiffening of his prick, however, indicated otherwise.

This was just brilliant! Studying? Learning? How were those things to be accomplished when there was no blood flowing to his brain? Draco managed to stop his head from thumping down upon the desk by catching it in his hands. He was vaguely aware of Potter – _Professor_ Potter – continuing to talk about class expectations.

“We’ll be using the current DADA textbooks for sixth and seventh year students. Since there were already copies here, I didn’t put it on your list of required purchases. I think you’ll find that it’s a vast improvement over the textbooks we had when we took this class as teenagers.”

Once again Harry flicked his wand and the textbooks sailed from the bookcases on the left side of the room onto the student desks. “You’ll have a reading assignment for tonight, but I want you to know that the focus of this course will be on practical application. You won’t be spending much time sitting at your desks.”

“Like when you trained Dumbledore’s Army?” one of the students asked.

Harry smiled and nodded. “Yes. Very much like that. I have to say I was really pleased to find that this new DADA classroom was created with that in mind. We’re going to need all this extra space when you’re practicing the spells you’ll be learning. But for now – I need you to take out quill and parchment.” He smiled good-naturedly at the groans that greeted his instruction. “Come on! You’re back at school – there are bound to be assignments.”

Mechanically, Draco set aside his textbook and took up his quill. His parchment was already in place. A feeling of hopelessness spread through him and he began to consider that, perhaps, a career in Curse-Breaking probably wasn’t his best choice anyway. Well, at least he wouldn’t have to spend an entire summer sleeping in a dormitory and trying to cram his brain with information that adamantly refused to go into it.

“Alright.” Harry’s cheerful voice jarred Draco, disrupting, but not dispelling, his melancholy. “Before we begin, I’d really like to have some information from you.” A list began to appear on the chalkboard behind Harry. “First, tell me what you think your strengths are in this subject. If everyone can produce a Patronus, for example, there’s no point in spending time on it when we could be learning something else. Don’t be afraid to give yourself credit for what you already know. By the same token, honestly evaluate your knowledge and skills and tell me what areas you feel are your weakest. That makes sense, right? Okay, I also want to know what NEWTs, if any, you’ve already passed and what other classes, if any, you’re taking this summer. And finally, I need to know about your wands. I’m sure you’re all aware that the attributes of your wand influence how your magic manifests itself. If you are struggling with a particular spell or concept, sometimes adjustments can be made to accommodate the way your wand wants to perform.”

There were some comments of surprise when Harry mentioned this last bit about the wands. Despite – or perhaps because of – the fact that their wands were an extension of themselves, many witches and wizards took them for granted. They just accepted that wands were a necessity, but rarely questioned the actual mechanics of the implement that allowed them to channel their magic. Draco had been motivated to do some independent study of wandlore after the war. He had been shocked to discover that Harry had used his hawthorn wand to defeat Voldemort and that _he_ had actually been the master of the Wand of Destiny after he had disarmed Dumbledore. After the war, his old wand had never responded to him in the same way, and Draco had finally given in and purchased a new one. He had not been completely surprised that the components of his new wand, walnut and hippogriff feather, were vastly different from the wand of his youth. Vaguely, Draco registered the thought that Harry might turn out to be a very good DADA professor. Not that it would do Draco any good, of course, since he would not be staying on for A.R.S.E.H.

“Alright, if there are no questions about this assignment, I’d like you to go ahead and get started. Hand it in when you’re finished, and then you’re allowed to leave.” A few cheers greeted this pronouncement, but Harry silenced them with his next words. “Don’t get too excited. That’s to give you time to work on your reading assignment for tonight. If you’ll take a look at the syllabus, you’ll see that there’s quite a bit to it.” Now the groans returned. “I know, I know. But remember – we’ve got a lot of material to cover in a short amount of time. I’ll guide you in the practical part of what you need to know, but you’ve got to come to class prepared.”

****

HDHDHDHD

‘ _Don’t leave, Draco. Don’t leave_.’ Harry had waited patiently for all of his students to complete the assignment and depart. He tried to stay focused on planning future lessons, but all he was really doing was silently pleading with Draco to stay. And it appeared to be working. Harry couldn’t believe that – after obviously avoiding him at the Burrow and last night in the Entrance Hall – Draco appeared to be stalling, taking more time than he probably needed with the assignment. Now only Draco and Tracey Davis remained in the class. It appeared that Harry was going to have an opportunity to talk to Draco alone very soon.

Finally, Tracey gathered her things and walked toward Harry’s desk. He was too impatient to wait, so he met her halfway and took her paper. He smiled at her and pretended to start reading what she had written. The moment she was out the door, however, Harry sent the paper sailing toward his desk to land atop the others that had been turned in. His focus was on getting over to where Draco still sat, working on his assignment.

Except, when Harry reached his side, he saw that Draco hadn’t been working on the assignment at all. Apparently, Draco had spent his time writing… a note. _A note??_ Draco had written a note during class, instead of working on the assignment? A flare of irritation – and a sense of déjà vu – rose within him at Draco’s failure to cooperate. But then Harry realized that Draco had not looked up or acknowledged his approach. He appeared to be just staring at his note. Harry looked again at the paper and saw that it was addressed to Bill Weasley. He skimmed the contents. It appeared to be an apology – Draco was sorry for letting Bill down, unable to complete the program, no hope of passing the NEWT.

“Draco.” Harry tried to gain Draco’s attention, but the man appeared to be in a daze. Harry sat down in the chair beside him. “Draco? What are you doing? What’s this about leaving the program?”

Draco took a deep breath and slowly turned toward Harry. “It had to be you, didn’t it, Potter? It couldn’t have been some kindly, old Dumbledore-looking wizard or frumpy witch.”

Harry frowned, trying to understand. “What had to be me?”

“The professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Draco explained – though he thought his meaning would have been obvious. “I can’t do this. Not if it’s you.”

“Wait!” Harry said, instantly defensive. “Is that what this is about? You can’t work with _me_?? Are you kidding me, Draco? I can’t believe this! I thought we were past this shit. I thought…” Harry shook his head in disbelief and let out of huff of frustration. “I thought… Hell, I don’t know what I thought.”

The man was an idiot, Draco decided. Harry wasn’t understanding a word that Draco said. Well. If that was the case…

Harry squeaked when Draco grabbed him by the tie and hauled him forward. It was the only noise he managed to get out before Draco smashed their lips together. Both men gasped at the jolt they felt when their lips touched, and they drew back the tiniest bit. Draco’s ragged breathing mirrored the same in Harry. Eyes wide, they sat for what seemed like several moments – lips touching lightly, breath exhaled from one and inhaled by the other. Then, as their breathing slowed, their lips refused the frantic crush of the first contact and, instead of pressing together with bruising intensity, brushed and rubbed and tasted.

Harry had always suspected Draco could do wicked things with that mouth of his. Now there was nibbling and gentle sucking and – ummm – Draco’s tongue slipping between Harry’s lips. He supposed he really ought to make some protest. One minute Draco was leaving and rejecting him as a teacher. The next he’s stroking Harry’s tongue with his own and slipping the hand that wasn’t still clutching his tie into Harry’s hair. Mmmm, yes… kiss now, protest later. Harry slid his arms around Draco and returned the kiss with equal enthusiasm.

This was more like it! Finally, the idiot appeared to be getting the idea. Harry had pulled him into a delicious embrace and was kissing him back. Draco had, frequently over the last several years, wondered what kissing Harry would feel like. Now he knew – it was heaven. Well, aside from the first awkward squashing of lips – but they were well past that now. Harry’s tongue had joined in the play and Draco could swear he felt the slide of that wet heat all through him. Full-body kissing. This was new. Draco had his fair share of experience in this arena, but he supposed he should have known that kissing Harry would make memories of all previous kisses fall away into insignificance.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Getting involved with Harry could easily be all consuming. Certainly, it would mean the end of his NEWT quest. Draco slowly, reluctantly, pulled away from Harry. He couldn’t go very far. Harry still held him fast. Since it seemed that he would need some time to catch his breath anyway, Draco rested his forehead against Harry’s. It was gratifying to note that he wasn’t the only one breathing hard.

Harry’s heart was racing and, since his head was spinning just a bit, he was glad to be able to rest his forehead against Draco’s. He would have happily continued kissing Draco, but perhaps it wasn’t the best idea for them to be doing this in the classroom. He wondered if he would seem a complete arse if he suggested that they move this to his office – a convenient few steps away. A heavy sigh from Draco derailed that thought and reminded Harry of the note he had seen.

“What’s going on, Draco?” Harry asked. “You’re not really thinking of leaving are you?”

Draco pulled back, not yet willing to remove himself completely from Harry’s arms, but knowing he would have to soon enough. “I don’t see why I should stay. There’s no way I can get my NEWT, now.”

Harry was at a loss. “What do you mean? Are you so certain that I’m going to be a terrible teacher?”

“Of course not.” Draco sat back and regarded Harry seriously. “You’ll be brilliant.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Harry’s frustration was obvious.

“This!” Draco motioned between them. “There is no way I can learn what I need for my NEWT when all I can think of is how much I want rip off your clothes and lick your entire body.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up and his thought process got snagged on that image. “Oh… well, maybe we should just… get that out of the way. Out of your system, so to speak. Then you can focus on the school stuff.” He seriously thought it was a good idea – even after Draco’s hand shot out and cuffed him on the side of the head. “OW!!”

“Two things, _Professor_ ,” Draco said. “This is _not_ all about your cock. AND – if you think one quick shag is going to work anything out of my system – or yours – you are a complete idiot. The very notion is insulting!”

“Well, I didn’t really mean for it to be just one shag,” Harry said. “I was thinking more like one to tide us over. You know – until you can finish out the program and take your NEWT. And pass.”

“One shag to ‘tide us over’ for three months?” Draco’s glare was scorching. “You are seriously underestimating just how much sex with me would rock your world.”

Harry tried to speak, but his mouth had gone dry. He rose from his chair and walked around to the front of the desk, hoping that putting a little distance between them would help him to focus on something other than Draco’s promise of world-rocking sex. He had also hoped the movement would encourage circulation of his blood so that it was not so concentrated in one particular area. It seemed to help a bit – at least enough for him to finally form words.

“I am not underestimating anything. I’m just trying to be… helpful,” he explained. “I don’t want you to go, Draco.” He held up his hand to forestall the argument he saw forming. “And not just because I want you to rip my clothes off and lick me all over. I know you’re serious about earning your NEWT and I want to do anything I can to help you. Though, to be honest, I don’t know why you are so worried. You’re bound to pass.”

Draco grimaced. “Except that I’ve already taken the test, Harry. And if I had passed it then, I certainly wouldn’t be here now.” Draco sat back, completely dejected. “I’m fooling myself. Even Adult Re-education to Standards of Excellence at Hogwarts is not going to make a difference. I’m never going to pass that NEWT.”

“Draco – are you listening to yourself?” Harry was incredulous. “Where is the Malfoy fight? The obstinance? How can you just give up like this?” Harry placed his hands on the desk in front of him and leaned toward Draco. “And are you seriously telling me that you don’t think you have any more control over your libido than this?” Harry watched as Draco shifted in his seat, averting his eyes. An idea took hold in Harry’s mind as he watched Draco’s apparent discomfort increase. “No,” Harry said. “That’s not like you at all. If there’s anyone who has the ability to keep a tight rein on himself, it’s you.” Harry folded his arms across his chest, feeling more and more as he had when questioning a suspect. “What is it, Draco? What is this really all about?”

Eyes still averted, Draco folded his arms across his chest, mirroring Harry. “I don’t know,” he muttered sullenly.

“I think you do,” Harry said.

“No. I don’t!” Draco practically shouted. “All I know is that, despite my prior knowledge, experience, and Herculean effort to learn Defense Against the fucking Dark Arts, _I can’t do it_!” Draco shoved back his chair and stood, facing Harry across the desk, daring him to argue. Harry just stared calmly back at him, deflating Draco’s anger. He gave a tired sigh. “It’s like… it’s like I have some kind of… block or something. Like someone does an Obliviate on me, erasing everything I try to learn about it.”

“You know,” Harry said, tipping his head to the side as he peered at Draco, “I think there might be something to that.” Draco gave him a questioning look. “Not the Obliviate thing. The block.”

The door to the classroom flew open. “Hey, mate!” Ron’s stride faltered just a bit when he saw who Harry was talking to, but he continued on up the aisle, talking as he made his way to them. “Time for lunch. You coming?” Ron stopped beside them, standing at the end of the desk. Harry and Draco still faced each other across it, and Ron greeted Draco grudgingly. “Malfoy. Um… lunch?”

Draco began to gather his things. “Thank you, no.”

“Draco,” Harry said, laying a hand on his arm. “We need to finish this.”

“Right,” said Ron, backing away toward the door. “I’ll see you later.”

“No, Ron.” Draco kept his eyes on Harry, even as he addressed the other man, halting Ron’s progress toward the door. “Take Harry with you.” He shrugged his book bag over his shoulder.

“Draco, I’m not going to let you just leave.” Harry moved to the aisle to block Draco’s way. He received a bit of a sneer and the Malfoy eyebrow lift for his trouble. Undeterred, Harry reached out and gripped Draco’s shoulders, holding him in place. “Promise me you’ll stay, Draco. Please. I promise to help you. I know we can figure this out.”

Draco had always admired Harry’s big, beautiful green eyes. But he had never, until that moment, had them used as a weapon against him. Dark lashes batted, the color seemed to deepen, and Draco could palpably feel every ounce of desire mirrored in Harry’s eyes. Desire for Draco to listen to his plea, desire for Draco to give Harry a chance to help him, and just… desire for Draco himself. Draco huffed a suggestion of a laugh and shook his head to signify his surrender. And some people thought Harry’s power was only magical.

“Fine. I’ll stay.”

Harry whooped and pulled Draco into an enthusiastic embrace. “Thank you!”

Draco’s knees went a bit weak as Harry’s whisper tickled his ear. He was just about to slip his arms around Harry for support when Ron interrupted them again.

“So,” Ron said, obviously irritated and impatient. “Lunch?”

The smile on Harry’s face as he pulled away from Draco sealed the deal. Draco knew he’d stay, just to create more opportunities to see that smile. Perhaps the NEWT would remain unattainable. At least while he was trying to decide what to do – since Curse-Breaking would no longer be an option – he could spend some time with Harry. He might even arrange to live out some of the fantasies he’d had about the two of them set in various places around the school. There were worse ways to spend a summer, Draco supposed.

“Yes,” Draco said. “Let’s go to lunch. Wouldn’t want the new DADA professor fainting away from hunger his first day on the job.”

Harry stepped back and gestured for Draco to precede him toward the door. “No need to worry about that. What you should be concerned about is that reading assignment you have for tomorrow’s class – on top of the assignment you still owe me from today.” Since Ron was already in the hallway, Harry leaned a little closer to Draco and whispered, “Being the teacher’s pet will get you no special treatment, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco glanced at Harry sidelong, and smirked. “No?” His own whisper was husky. “Well I can guarantee you that being my pet teacher will get you all kinds of special treatment. Professor.” Then he laughed at the look on Harry’s face that, Draco strongly suspected, indicated he was experiencing a rush of blood flow southward.

****

HDHDHDHD

“This round is on Rosmerta,” George said as he approached the table with a tray of drinks floating behind him. “Along with happy birthday wishes to you, mate.” George took one of the drinks from the tray and plunked it down in front of Draco before sliding into a chair beside him.

Draco took the glass and, catching the eye of Madam Rosmerta, lifted it to her in a toast. She gave him a wry grin and nodded her head before turning back to a customer at the bar. “You’re sure she didn’t poison it, right?” Draco asked, sniffing at the firewhisky before taking a small sip.

“Not her style,” George said. “Customers ending up poisoned would be bad for business. If she was ever going to retaliate against you, she’d send some of her larger, more belligerent admirers after you some dark night when you leave the pub all on your own.”

“All the more incentive to never leave alone,” Draco said.

“Well, that won’t be a problem tonight. You brought quite a crowd with you. No doubt that scored you some points with Rosmerta, as well. Thursday nights are usually kind of slow.”

“Yes,” Draco said, looking around at his fellow classmates. “I’m certain that’s all to do with them being eager to celebrate my birthday and nothing about being desperate to get out of the castle after the first week of being back in school.”

“Oh, no doubt,” George said.

Pansy had been the one to organize the outing. Though she was staying in the Hufflepuff dormitory, she spent a lot of time in all the dorms visiting, connecting with old acquaintances, and doing very little studying. When she had announced her plans to take Draco out for a drink on his birthday, there had been immediate interest among their fellow students. Since they were adults, going into Hogsmeade on a week night was not forbidden and most of the students were anxious to celebrate the end of their first week as participants in A.R.S.E.H. Many would be going home for the weekend, so, although it was a Thursday night, there had been no shortage of people interested in an evening out.

The next round for the birthday boy was on Justin Finch-Fletchley, though Draco suspected he was just trying to impress Pansy. The attractive, former Hufflepuff with the well-connected family had quickly made it onto Pansy’s short list of potential matrimonial candidates. Since Pansy’s first husband had been an ancient, albeit wealthy, wizard chosen by her parents, Draco supposed he couldn’t begrudge her a young, good-looking husband for her second time around. If she must remarry, which she seemed determined to do as quickly as possible, she could do worse than Finch-Fletchley. Draco just wished she’d take George off her list. Since she had made a point of owling him with an invitation to join the celebration, however, Draco assumed Pansy still considered him a candidate.

Draco was not one to overindulge in liquor, even on his typical evenings out with George. So, even though several of his companions had offered to buy him drinks for his birthday, he continued to take it slow, sipping one drink, in no hurry to get on to the next one. Still, by the time Harry arrived with Ron and Terence, Draco’d had a few and was feeling fairly mellow. So much so that he was able to greet the newcomers with that generosity of spirit often inspired by drink but was able to resist immediately throwing himself at Harry. In very short order, however, Harry had maneuvered him away from their group. Draco found himself sitting at the bar next to Harry and was certain that he was wearing a ridiculous smile, but couldn’t make himself stop.

“So…” Harry began, a little uncertain what to say now that he had Draco away from Hogwarts. “Um, how are your parents?”

“Humbled,” Draco said. “Do you really want to talk about them?”

“No,” Harry admitted. He took a sip of his drink, watching Draco over the rim of the glass.

They had moved very cautiously around each other ever since that first day after class. Harry had promised Draco that he would do all he could to help him achieve his NEWT, so he had worked hard to stay in teacher mode whenever they were together. That was easy to do in class, of course. And Harry had been so busy trying to get acclimated to his new duties and stay up with his Potions assignments that he’d had little opportunity to seek Draco out at other times. Of course the prat seemed determined to test his resolve. Everything Draco did – the way he held his wand, the languid stretching at the end of class, the warm, steady gaze that intently watched Harry’s every move – teased and tempted. Then at lunch today, as Harry and Terence chatted just outside the Great Hall, Draco had sauntered up to them and invited them to join in the celebration of his birthday. The rest of the day had seemed interminable with one thing after another delaying him. When he had finally arrived at the Three Broomsticks, Harry wasted no time. He uttered brief greetings to anyone who tried to accost him, but went immediately to Draco’s side. Insisting that he had to buy Draco a birthday drink at the bar, Harry pulled him away from their crowd of companions.

And now that he had Draco to himself, relatively speaking, he could only stare and imagine Draco wearing nothing but that sexy smirk. He shook his head a bit. “Seems like there were all kinds of things I wanted to talk to you about, and now I can’t seem to think of a single one.”

“Don’t tell my you’ve already lost interest?”

“Definitely not,” Harry said. “You’re just very distracting.”

“Well, there you are – let’s talk about me,” Draco said. “That’s always a fascinating topic.”

Harry laughed. “I agree completely. Alright then. Draco Malfoy… honorary Weasley.”

Draco groaned, but was still smiling. “Of all the things…”

“Well, this is about you – it just happens to be about the Weasleys, too. I have to know how this happened. I’m away for two years, and I come back to find that, not only are you still working with Bill, but – on top of that – you’re practically best friends with George. And Ginny adores you. What’s more, Molly Weasley mothers you – and you allow it. And… I’ve heard that you dated Charlie. So, tell me. How did you go from despising the whole of the Weasley family to practically being one of them?”

Draco took a deep breath and began. “Well, of course you know that it started with Bill. He approached me about helping him with a particularly complicated curse – one that really needed more than one person trying to solve it. It was awkward as hell at first. I thought maybe he was planning to use me as cannon fodder – take the brunt of any curses that were tripped.”

“So why did you agree to help him, then?”

“I suppose I thought I deserved to be his cannon fodder,” Draco said. He didn’t think he needed to elaborate, and Harry didn’t ask for any explanation. “Eventually, I figured out that Bill… didn’t blame me for anything.” Draco’s voice held a hint of wonder. “Not for anything.”

Harry waited a moment before asking, “But what about the rest of them?”

“Well, George was always popping up at work, making a nuisance of himself. Then Ginny – I think that, initially, there was some protective thing going on there. Coming round to make certain that I wasn’t somehow corrupting her brothers.” Draco shrugged, the drink making it much more exaggerated than his usual subtle movement. “All of a sudden, I was standing at the edge of a ginger abyss. I suppose I just decided to jump in with both feet.”

Harry nodded slowly. “Like immersion therapy.”

A broad grin lit Draco’s face. “Yes! Granger’s told me about that. I know exactly what you mean. And you’re right, I suppose. Instead of shying away from them, avoiding, I just… immersed myself in Weasleys.” He smirked. “Ginger immersion.”

Harry snickered, but then, as a thought occurred, furrowed his brow a bit. Leaning a bit closer he said, “And… Charlie? Was there… immersion there as well?”

Draco drew back. “I’ll have you know, Potter, I do not immerse and tell.” He allowed Harry to squirm for a few moments before adding. “Oh, very well. The answer is yes. There may have been a bit of… mutual immersing.”

Harry sat back. “ _Mutual_ immersing? You’re having me on,” he said, clearly disbelieving. “I never… he wouldn’t…” Harry leaned in again and lowered his voice once more. “Are you telling me that Charlie… bottomed for you?”

Draco’s smirk was downright wicked. “Are you telling me he never did for you?” The look on Harry’s face made it plain that the answer to that was yes. Draco was the one leaning in now, and his husky whisper tickled Harry’s ear. “Well, the good news for you is that I’m much more flexible than Charlie Weasley. In every sense of the word.”

His body responded with a shudder as he felt his cock stiffen, and Harry turned to capture Draco’s lips. All thoughts of anything, _anyone_ , but the two of them were banished by that kiss. Draco’s hand stroked his cheek, then moved up to tangle in his hair, sending a tingle down his spine. Harry slipped an arm around Draco, drawing him closer and –

The flash of the camera burned through their closed eyelids. Despite the noise in the crowded pub, the sound of the shutter shattered the moment, breaking Harry and Draco apart. They hardly had the chance to lay eyes on the leering photographer before George and Terence descended upon the man and hustled him toward the door. Ron followed and caught the camera as George wrenched it from the man’s grasp and tossed it aside. Silence filled the pub, and every single person there turned to stare at Harry and Draco.

“Hell,” Harry said under his breath. He felt Draco’s hand slide into his, and Harry held on tight. He strongly considered taking Draco and Apparating away with him. No one moved or said a word, they just continued to stare.

In the silence, the light tinkle of the bell above the door of the pub sounded unnaturally loud. Ron strode back inside, but stopped as every head in the room swung to face him, then immediately turned back to Harry and Draco. Ron observed the tableau for only a few moments – the dumbfounded expressions on the faces of everyone in the bar as they gaped at Harry and Draco, countered by Harry and Draco staring back at the crowd, looking miserable. Then Ron sighed and proceeded to save the day.

“Really, people.” Ron’s voice boomed into the silence as he addressed the crowd. “None of you saw this one coming??”

The group stirred a bit here and there, looking as though they’d been awakened from mass-hypnosis. A few grins broke out and whispers began to buzz. Then another voice rang out over the room.

“Just shocked they _finally_ got round to it.” Pansy’s smirk quickly morphed into a fond smile. She raised her glass. “To Harry and Draco!”

The toast was repeated around the pub and normalcy was restored. Laughing, talking, and drinking recommenced. Harry caught Ron’s eye and gave him a grateful smile. Ron rolled his eyes to convey ‘the things I do for you, Harry’ – but he was smiling in return. Draco was hugging Pansy. She’d come over to the bar to join them, Justin trailing not too far behind.

The door to the pub opened again, but this time the sounding bell was faint over the noise of the patrons. Terence entered and walked straight to the bar. “Well, we did what we could,” he said to Harry.

“Which was?” Pansy asked.

“We took the film, so there will be no pictures. But the man’s a reporter from the _Prophet_. George is… accompanying him back to London, trying to convince him that there is nothing to report.” Terence grimaced. “We probably should get everyone back to the school for now.”

That was a task not easily accomplished. These were adults and they had been drinking. There was grumbling and some outright argument. Finally, Rosmerta announced that Headmistress McGonagall was aware of the situation and would be waiting for them in the Entrance Hall. This made the group even less agreeable to leaving the pub, but it put an end to all argument.

When they arrived at Hogwarts, the headmistress was, indeed, waiting for them. She said nothing to the students beyond encouraging them to go to their dorms, but her stern gaze spoke volumes. When she did speak again, it was to her two wayward faculty members.

“Professor Higgs, Professor Potter. Join me in my office – if you please.” The way she bit out the words left it clear that it didn’t matter what they pleased – they were to report to the headmistress’ office to be duly chastised. “Mr. Malfoy, proceed to your dormitory with the other students.”

Draco looked like he wanted to argue, but wisely refrained. He did glare fiercely at Headmistress McGonagall’s back as she stormed away. Harry knew he should follow the headmistress immediately, but he simply found that glare irresistible. He quickly stepped close to Draco and cupped his hands round that gorgeous, grumpy face in order to steal a kiss. It lasted longer than was probably prudent, but when Harry drew back, Draco was no longer glaring.

“I’ll see you tomorrow in class,” Harry said, grinning broadly. Then he ran to catch up to Terence and Headmistress McGonagall.

Draco stared after him, lips still tingling from Harry’s kiss. Slowly it occurred to him that he was smiling. He remedied that immediately and scowled at the darkened hallway where Harry had long since disappeared – along with the chance for having birthday sex. A long-suffering sigh escaped him, and he started the long climb up to Gryffindor tower feeling extremely sorry for himself. “So much for getting _arse_ at Hogwarts.”

****

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_Two weeks!_ Two weeks had passed since Draco’s birthday and he and Harry had still not had sex. There had been kissing and even a bit of desperate groping – and then Harry would remember whatever McGonagall had said to him, and he’d push Draco, gently, away.

The fallout from their kiss at the Three Broomsticks turned out to be not as bad overall as it had been for Draco personally. The _Daily Prophet_ had indeed printed the story – though it had not been plastered across the front page. Not that it mattered where in the paper the story was placed. Even people who did not receive the paper had heard about it by the end of the day. Since there truly was not much to report, the paper had to rely on its long-standing practice of embellishment. The story had Harry and Draco practically having sex on top of the bar. It was absurd. They’d barely begun kissing and had probably been several minutes away from even grabbing each other’s bits, let alone having actual sex. And they probably would have remembered to seek out some privacy before it came to that. Probably.

The morning post had arrived during breakfast that Friday morning, delivering several copies of the _Prophet_ to the students and faculty. Draco did not receive a copy for himself and noticed that Harry – sitting at the staff table where he had, evidently, been instructed to sit instead of among the students – did not receive a copy either. They didn’t have to wait long to hear about what the paper had printed. Everyone was talking about it. Draco was extremely gratified to note that, much to his surprise, any outrage expressed by his fellow students was on behalf of Harry and Draco and their loss of privacy and not at the idea of the two of them being together. Most of the staff had seemed supportive as well. Though – McGonagall had reiterated her speech about showing restraint and the importance of presenting a model of appropriate behavior to the public so the paper could have nothing at all to report.

Harry had been quite reserved in class and actually had the students do a written assignment rather than a practical where he would have to move among them. It was clear that he was trying to reestablish a professional distance between the two of them. Draco didn’t get the chance to find out if that was to be only during class, because as soon as class was over, Ron was rushing Harry off to lunch. Draco had followed along since he was going the same way, but he had not joined their conversation. Harry had not seemed particularly talkative either, and had had no answer for Ron’s question regarding why the _Prophet_ would push for, promote, and praise the establishment of an adult education program and then set about looking for opportunities to make up stories that could put the program in a bad light.

Lunch had brought another owl delivery, and this time a large eagle owl had winged its way to Draco. He had been expecting this, so he was not surprised to receive the message from his parents. He was surprised that the missive did not contain questions about the news story, but a summons to come home for the weekend to discuss “the situation.” Draco had hoped to have the weekend to talk to Harry – and the opportunity to _not_ talk. Instead, he had spent that weekend at the Manor listening as his parents went through the various stages of “what this will do to the family name.” Draco sat silently, for the most part, through the anger, denial, calculation, acceptance, preening, and – finally – self-congratulation. By Sunday he was so eager to return to school that he slipped out after breakfast without even saying a proper goodbye.

And so he’d spent the last two weeks watching Harry be painfully professional. Whatever McGonagall had said to him that night had made quite an impression. Harry had, true to his word, done everything he could to help Draco learn the DADA material – including special tutoring sessions. Unfortunately, he had arranged it so that others were also present during those sessions. And he had adamantly refused Draco access to his personal quarters.

Still, there had been a few slips. Sometimes when Draco least expected it, Harry would grab him and they would share scorching, desperate kisses. But then Harry would come to his senses and apologize for losing control. More than once Draco had begged him to just go ahead and lose it, but Harry called upon every bit of his Gryffindor stubbornness to resist temptation.

Today, however, Draco had cause to hope. There had been an incident in class involving his wand. They had been practicing a defensive spell and Draco, despite several tries, had not been able to execute it successfully. Harry had asked to see Draco’s wand. It had been on the tip of his tongue to make some provocative remark about wands and the handling of them, but he had managed to stop himself. Instead he had held it out for Harry to take. The moment Harry had touched it, Draco affected a shiver and let out a whisper of a moan that only Harry could hear. Harry’s eyes had widened, but he’d taken Draco’s wand and had begun his examination of it.

“Walnut,” Harry had said to the class, “is an interesting wood for wands. Those who own wands made of walnut tend to be strong, powerful.”

His description might have sounded clinical, but Draco noted the lower tone of Harry’s voice and watched Harry slide his hand along the wood in a hint of a caress. When Harry looked at him, Draco made certain that he was biting his bottom lip and that his eyes conveyed blatant desire.

“The combination of the walnut with the hippogriff feather core makes perfect sense,” Harry had continued. “I’m sure you all remember from our days in Care of Magical Creatures that hippogriffs are very powerful, dignified animals. But they are also… temperamental. The hippogriff feather core requires a powerful wizard to… handle it.”

Here Harry had actually looked directly at Draco as he slid his hand up and down the wand. Draco hadn’t had to pretend to be turned on by Harry handling his wand – rather he’d had to try to slow his breathing and bite down harder on his lip to hold in a moan.

“So walnut is a perfect complement to this core, because that wood is going to choose someone powerful enough – and insightful enough – to respect the hippogriff within it.” And then Harry stepped close to Draco and whispered, “I don’t want to give it back, but I will. I just… feel like I’m touching a part of you, and I want that so much.” Then he had thrust the wand back into Draco’s hands and turned quickly away.

In all honesty, Draco hadn’t heard the further explanation Harry had given the class as to why Draco’s wand was reacting as it had when trying to perform the spell. He’d been trying to will away his erection and hoping he wouldn’t just come on the spot if Harry said another word to him. Fortunately, there had been little time left in the class. Draco had hurried from the class and had, thank Merlin, found the dorm empty during the lunch break. He’d wanked feverishly to the image of Harry fondling his wand. Instead of feeling relieved, however, the session had just amped up his need.

So now, with all classes finished for the day, Draco was waiting in one of the dark alcoves that Hogwarts seemed to have in abundance. He had placed a charm on the door of the DADA classroom to alert him when Harry left. He’d first checked the door to see if it was unlocked, but of course it wasn’t. After the birthday incident, Harry had taken to locking the door when he was working in the classroom or his office alone. Draco had tried to be pleased that Harry’s precaution had been established because he couldn’t trust himself if Draco accosted him in a private setting, rather than feel rejected because Harry was purposely avoiding contact with him.

This particular alcove was only a few paces from the classroom and Draco knew Harry would have to pass by it to get to the closest stairway. The cool stone of the wall seemed to soothe some of his ache, but Draco was getting tired of waiting. Enough was enough. The moment Harry passed by, Draco would pull him into the alcove and there would be some serious faltering and, he was quite certain, a good amount of satisfaction.

The charm was tripped and Draco stood straight and moved to the opening. He flattened himself against the wall closest to Harry’s path, so that he would not be noticed as Harry walked past. Footsteps approached and Draco readied himself. His timing was perfect, and seconds later he had Harry pinned against the wall in the dark alcove. He pressed his entire body against Harry’s to hold him in place and began nibbling and sucking at Harry’s neck. Draco realized his tactical error too late. He should have covered Harry’s mouth with a kiss so the git would be unable to talk.

“Draco! Draco, let me go!”

“No. And be quiet, will you? I don’t have a hand free to cast a Silencing Charm and I’m not going to release one of your hands for you to do it. At least, not yet.” Draco tried to kiss Harry and was briefly successful. Initially, Harry seemed to melt into the kiss, but all too quickly he stiffened and moved his head away.

“Stop it, Draco,” Harry said again. “We can’t do this here.”

“Fine,” Draco said. “Let’s go to your room.” Once more he pressed his mouth to Harry’s neck. He’d discovered Harry’s neck was extremely sensitive and was quickly rewarded with delicious sounds that clearly indicated Harry’s enjoyment. Draco pressed his advantage by slipping his thigh between Harry’s to create some calculated friction. Again, Harry didn’t initially resist and they spent several moments rocking together, building exquisite arousal.

“Can’t.” Harry’s voice was rough with excitement. “We… we have to wait.”

Harry’s breath was hot and harsh in Draco’s ear and it made him desperate enough to risk releasing one of Harry’s hands so he could attend to opening Harry’s trousers. Again, Harry was pliant at first and Draco had his trousers and pants down past his hips, cock exposed and standing proud, before any resistance was presented. Draco, distracted by the sight before him, had loosened his hold. It was a near miss. Harry somehow recovered enough of his senses to almost affect an escape. Draco was quicker, though, and now had Harry flipped facing the wall. He cradled Harry’s cock so it would not be chafed by the stone wall and pressed his own still-clothed erection against Harry’s arse.

Harry arched, pressing himself back against Draco’s hardness and the sweet little moans returned. These actions did nothing to support Harry’s weak protest. “Draco… we shouldn’t… oh god!”

Draco was a multi-tasker and he brought all his skills to bear as he stroked Harry’s prick with one hand and used the other to free himself from his trousers and pants. He pressed his cock against Harry’s arse and rubbed himself along the cleft, gasping at the magnificent sensation. His tongue imitated the movement against Harry’s ear. In between licking and sucking and nibbling on Harry’s earlobe, Draco whispered, “Need you, Harry. I want you so much.”

Draco wasn’t certain how it happened, but all of a sudden he found himself, back against the cold stone of the wall, facing a very aroused, yet very determined, Harry Potter.

“Draco.” Harry’s breathing was ragged and his voice hoarse. “We can’t. I want to. Merlin – I want to! But we just can’t.”

“But – ” Draco tried to protest.

“No.” Harry’s voice was quiet and firm and the look in his eyes unyielding.

Draco met that hard gaze, hoping for some sign of weakness, but found none. They stared at each other for several tense moments. Then Draco said, “Handjob?”

“God, yes!” Harry’s capitulation surprised Draco, but he wasn’t going to question it.

The loud, simultaneous groans of relief as they finally got hands round each other’s cocks reverberated in the tight space of the alcove. Harry muttered something that Draco was fairly certain created a barrier of silence around them – finally. The fact that Harry had done it wandlessly was a tremendous turn-on for Draco, and he was suddenly glad to have the wall for support because his knees were in danger of giving out.

Harry braced one arm on the wall to give himself better leverage for working Draco’s cock. Merlin, it was gorgeous, and it was all Harry could do not to fall to his knees and worship it with his mouth. He knew they were taking things too far as it was. But seriously, how was he supposed to resist Draco Malfoy? Everything about the man screamed sex – and it was all pitched directly at Harry. They still had over two months remaining of A.R.S.E.H. Harry had given the headmistress his word that he would maintain a professional distance between himself and the students – all of the students. He now began to understand it was an impossible task.

“Feels so good,” Harry said, his body shuddering as Draco stroked him.

“We can do better than good,” Draco said. His voice shook with arousal, but he didn’t need it for the spell he cast. He knew immediately when Harry felt the cool lube slide from Draco’s hand against his hardness.

“Draco!!” Lubrication spells were fairly common in the repertoire of adolescent wizards. A corner of Harry’s mind took a brief moment to applaud Draco’s ability to cast one non-verbally. Mainly he had no thought beyond bringing their hands and pricks together. Both men gasped when their erections touched. The lubrication was spread over both cocks, and Harry and Draco stroked them together.

Harry’s cock was so hot and hard against his. Draco’s entire being focused on the feel of it – rubbing, pulling, sliding. Harry’s hand squeezed with just the right amount of pressure and Draco felt his orgasm approaching. The sensations, so long anticipated, were too brilliant.

“Aah! Harry!” The words spilled out of him, and his come erupted over their hands. That triggered Harry’s release, and soon there was an abundance of warm stickiness all over their hands and cocks.

They stood together, still holding onto their now softening cocks. When their ragged breathing finally eased, Harry pressed his lips to Draco’s and kissed him softly. A spell was cast to clean them, and clothing was restored to its proper place. Instead of moving apart, they still stood close together and continued to kiss and nuzzle.

“We should really get out of here,” Harry finally said, though he made no move to do so.

Draco protested the idea by bringing Harry into a tight embrace. He was afraid to let Harry go, if he was honest. He was certain that the moment they stepped from the alcove, Harry would distance himself again.

“What are you doing this weekend?” Harry asked. Draco drew back, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the look of surprise on his face.

“Probably the same thing I’ve done for the past three weeks,” Draco said. “Skulk about trying to waylay you.”

Harry smiled and kissed Draco again. “I was thinking…”

“About ways to waylay _me_ , I hope.”

“Well, not exactly,” Harry said. “But about a way to achieve the same end result as your waylaying was intended to do.”

A blond eyebrow arched in interest. “Tell me more,” Draco said.

****

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Ron found Harry in his office on the Friday that ended their third week of A.R.S.E.H. He hadn’t really expected to find Harry there, nor had he thought to find the door to the office unlocked. Harry had taken up the habit of locking the door to keep a certain randy, blond Slytherin at bay.

After Ron knocked, Harry had called for him to enter. He was sitting at his desk and, though papers were scattered atop it, Harry didn’t seem to be focused on any of them.

“Hey, mate. What’re you doing?” Ron asked.

Harry sighed and furrowed his brow. “Thinking about Draco’s wand.”

Ron held up his hands, urging Harry to say no more. “Please – forget I asked. I do not want to know about that!”

Harry grimaced and rolled his eyes. “No, Ron. His _wand_. The one made of walnut and hippogriff feather.”

“Alright, well I didn’t know.” Ron slumped into the chair across from Harry. “Um… so what about it?”

Harry took another deep breath and shook his head. “I’m not sure yet. Just something I’ve been trying to work out.”

Ron shrugged. “Can’t help you there. But I came to let you know that I _can_ be of help this weekend.”

Harry looked up sharply. “This weekend?”

“Yeah,” Ron said. “Hermione’s owl came just after my last class today. She said she doesn’t mind if I stay for the Quidditch match tomorrow. Just wants me to come home tomorrow night.” He smirked. “I think my wife has discovered she misses me more… Harry? What’s wrong?” Harry had slumped back in his chair and had his face hidden in his hands. “Harry?”

Harry let his hands drop away and looked at Ron. “This weekend. I forgot about the Quidditch match this weekend.”

“How could you forget? It’s Quidditch!”

Though there were some students who went home to their families on the weekends, many stayed at Hogwarts. As adults, they were not required to stay, but the school did have the advantage of a massive library full of resources, opportunities for weekend study groups, and fewer distractions from studying since there was little to do there aside from preparing for classes. Terence and Harry had approached the headmistress about allowing use of the Quidditch pitch for casual matches – something to give the students a break and an opportunity to enjoy the mild summer weather. Given her enthusiastic support for the match, Headmistress McGonagall had required very little convincing to gain her approval. Harry had forgotten that the first game was this weekend.

“I… made other plans,” Harry muttered. “With Draco.”

“Other plans? Well surely you can work around the Quidditch match. Weren’t you both planning to play?”

“I had told Terence I would. Don’t know about Draco.” Harry bit at his bottom lip. “Surely Terence has plenty of people who want to play. They don’t need us.”

Ron was incredulous. “They don’t need you? Harry – it’s not Quidditch if you’re not going to play. Everyone will be disappointed if you’re not out there. And, I hate to admit it, but there were a lot of people talking about you and Draco facing each other – like when we were younger.”

“Well, maybe we could play in the next match,” Harry said. “I know we’re not the only two former Seekers here. All the volunteers were going to rotate out, weren’t they? Somebody else can take their turn tomorrow. Draco and I will sign up for next week.”

“Harry, you’re missing the point.” Ron was clearly frustrated. “Everyone is excited about seeing you play again. Like old times. They’ll be really disappointed if you’re not there for the first match.”

That truth hit Harry like a Bludger. “Everyone will be expecting to see us, won’t they? They’ll notice if we’re not there.”

“Well of course they’ll notice,” Ron said. “But why wouldn’t you be there?”

Harry shrugged and looked away. “Draco and I were… planning to go to London for the weekend. Spend a couple of days at his flat there.”

“Oh, I get it.” Ron sighed. “Well… can’t you go after the match?”

“Except that Draco’s already left,” Harry said. “We were trying not to be really obvious. I was going to leave later tonight after dinner.”

“After McGonagall sees you around,” Ron said knowingly.

“Exactly,” Harry said, grimacing. “Well… you’re right. There’s no way I can miss the match. And there’s no point in going all the way to London tonight, just to come back tomorrow morning.” Harry dropped his head into his hands. “Draco’s going to kill me.”

“Maybe not,” Ron said, clearly attempting to be supportive. “Just tell him that you’ll go to London with him next weekend.”

Harry peeked up over his hands. “Do you think that will work?” Ron just stared at him in return, before finally giving a weak shrug. Harry sighed again. “Of course, it won’t.”

“Well, you’d better go ahead and owl him or something. Get that over with.” Ron suggested. “Do you think he’ll come back for the game, or stay in London?”

Harry shrugged. “Who knows? But you’re right – the sooner I let him know, the better.”

“True,” Ron agreed. He watched Harry gather his parchment and quill, then frown at them before setting them aside.

“Maybe I better make it a Floo call. It will be faster, and I think he’d probably take that better than if I just sent an owl.” Harry rose from his chair and moved to the fireplace. He gave Ron an expectant look that was totally missed. “Um… mate? Some privacy?”

“Oh!” Ron shot up out of his chair. “Right! No problem. I’ll just meet you at supper.” Harry nodded at him, and Ron left the office, closing the door behind him. Truth be told, Ron thought Harry was very likely in for it. Yes, Draco had changed over the years and was not the nasty, evil prat he used to be. But he still had a temper and an irritating habit of blowing things up when he didn’t get his way. Not that Harry seemed to mind. Ron shook his head, muttering to himself. “Good luck, Harry. I’m afraid you’re going to need it.”

****

HDHDHDHD

Harry was going to die. He knew it, accepted it. It was a beautiful day for it at least. And he’d go down doing something he loved – playing Quidditch.

It would be a severe understatement of the facts to say that Draco had not been pleased that Harry had cancelled their plans for the weekend. He’d accused Harry of just plotting the whole thing to get him out of the way for a few days. Harry had tried to get him to see reason, but to no avail. Draco had ended the Floo call abruptly, and Harry had not heard from him since.

But now, there he was – sitting astride his broom above the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. His blond hair shone brilliantly in the summer sun, his fit body was breathtaking in his Quidditch gear, and his grey eyes flashed with fury as he glared daggers at Harry.

The match began and Harry turned his attention to it. He soared about the pitch, hoping that flying would lift his spirits. He’d always loved this, and when the idea of putting matches together for the summer students had been proposed, he had thought it would be fun. And he had been eager to play against Draco again – this time without all the animosity of their school-boy rivalry. Well, so much for that idea.

Most of the summer program students had stayed for the weekend, and some had family and friends who had come for the day and to enjoy the match. Even a fair number of the residents of Hogsmeade had come up to the school to watch. None of the spectators seemed at all disappointed that the match was being played by a mix of former members of all the different houses – including many who had not been on a Quidditch pitch since they had left Hogwarts. A few had not actually played on the house teams when they were in school. There was, for the most part, a light-hearted, casual feel to this match – and players and spectators alike seemed to be enjoying that.

Draco, however, was not feeling either light-hearted or casual. He had spent the first part of the game mirroring Harry. His focus was not at all on finding the Snitch, and he didn’t give a damn about the match. He’d only come back to play because he suspected that Harry had tried to get rid of him for the weekend. For the most part, he knew that wasn’t true. But he had been so excited about their plans, and he had never been one to deal well with disappointment. They were supposed to have spent the entire weekend at Draco’s flat in London. In bed. No interruptions, no prying reporters, and no Minerva McGonagall demanding abstinence. He should have known something would ruin it. That seemed to be the way his summer was playing out. Draco was frustrated, and someone was going to pay.

Being in the air soothed him somewhat. Flying always made Draco feel more at ease, and the mad diving tactics he had been employing against Harry had helped – especially since he could see how irritated Harry was made by them. Draco was still angry, of course, but after the first hour of the match, it had dissipated somewhat. His team was actually ahead in points, and he began to consider that proper, satisfying revenge might be found in beating Harry to the Snitch. True – he’d never done it before, but Draco knew that Harry was extremely distracted and thought he might be able to work that to his advantage. So, determined to take Harry down, Draco bent himself to the task of locating the Snitch. As fate would have it, this was the exact moment the Snitch came into view – hovering just behind Harry.

Harry was finally daring to relax. Draco had seemed to calm down a bit. At least he was no longer harassing Harry with crazy, kamikaze Quidditch dives. That had been nerve-wracking. How was he supposed to watch for the Snitch when a mad Slytherin kept dropping from the sky to rake their brooms, sending them both off balance? Draco would just grin maniacally, disappear for a bit, then – just when Harry’s attention was once more engaged in hunting the Snitch – come screaming in out of nowhere to do it again. Harry couldn’t wait for the match to be over. He’d had enough of Draco’s petulant misbehavior. He, too, had been disappointed that their weekend plans had been disrupted, but Draco seemed to blame it all on Harry. Once the match was over, Draco _would_ be made to listen to reason. Where was that damned Snitch??

Oh, hell! Forget the Snitch! Draco was bearing down on him at top speed. Rather than attacking Harry from an unexpected angle, this time Draco was coming straight at him from across the pitch. Did the arse think Harry was just going to sit here and wait to be… rammed or whatever Draco was planning to do? Fuck that! Draco was already alarmingly close, so Harry shot off to meet him, crouching low over his broom and bracing himself for impact. Evidently, Draco’s insanity was contagious.

Ha! Harry was fooled. He obviously thought Draco was continuing his attacks. And he was heading right for Draco, evidently determined to meet him head-on. He could hear the crowd going wild at the sight of the two Seekers hurtling toward each other. Now he could see the determined glint in Harry’s eyes – and just glimpsed them widening in surprise when Draco shot up past him. The Snitch still hovered there, as if it had been mesmerized by the sight of two Seekers engaging in some mad, high-speed joust. Too late, the little golden ball fluttered its wings to zoom away, but it was held fast in Draco’s triumphant grasp.

Harry had barely reined in his momentum to execute the turn to chase after Draco when the crowd exploded. Even before he looked, he knew it could only mean one thing. Draco had caught the Snitch. Harry turned around and, sure enough, Draco held his fist aloft, the little wings of the Golden Snitch fluttering around his grip. His teammates surged to surround him, and Harry watched as the entire group started a victory lap around the stadium.

Harry’s own teammates appeared somewhat stunned. He was certain they had assumed that, with Harry Potter as their Seeker, a win was somewhat assured. His feeling of dejection grew at the thought that he had let everyone down.

Just then Ron zoomed up to join him. They were silent for a few moments. Neither quite knew what say. Defeat on the Quidditch pitch was not something they were accustomed to, and this match had been particularly bizarre. Finally, Harry sighed deeply. “Sorry,” was all he could say.

Ron shrugged. “It’s okay. We’re all a bit rusty, I guess. And Draco… he kind of blindsided you, showing up the way he did.”

Harry’s gaze returned to Draco, still holding the Snitch aloft as he and his teammates finished their victory lap and headed down to the ground. “Yeah, he did. The way things were left, I thought he was planning to stay in town – as far away from me as he could get. Then he shows up and… he looks so… and what was all that with the dive-bombing… and the… GAH!!!” Harry brought his hands up to slap against his forehead in frustration. “He’s so fucking distracting. Why do I always let him get to me??”

Ron frowned and turned toward him. “Well, hell, Harry. Even I know the answer to that.” He hesitated a moment, then laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “It’s okay, mate. I think you make him barmy as well. And let’s face it. The two of you are long since overdue for… you know.” Ron ended with a wise nod.

Harry just stared at him. Surely Ron didn’t mean… “You know?”

Ron shifted nervously on his broom. “Well, _you know_.” Harry just continued to look at him. “Oh come on, Harry. Don’t make me say it.”

He looked so uncomfortable that Harry decided to put him out of his misery. “Alright, then. Yes, I do know. But I’m not likely to accomplish that anytime soon. Even if he wasn’t in the locker room surrounded by his teammates, I’m the last person he wants to see.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Ron said. “If that was the case, he wouldn’t have come back for the match and spent the biggest part of it trying to get your attention.” Ron looked thoughtful for a moment. “Now that I think about it, you two really are somewhat predictable, aren’t you?”

“You know, that’s not really entirely helpful at the moment,” Harry said, a certain degree of petulance coloring his tone.

Ron just grinned. “Oh – you want helpful. I can do that.”

****

HDHDHDHD

Terence came out of the locker room with the last of Draco’s team members. He broke off from them as they headed toward the main gates.

“Go on ahead,” he said to them. “I’ll meet you in Hogsmeade. I have to check that the gear is secured. Just order me a pint and I’ll be right there.” Once they were on their way, he went to the broom shed. “Okay,” he said as he opened the door. “Draco’s the only one left, Harry.” Turning to Ron he asked, “How did you know he would be the last one to leave?”

“Because when he plays Quidditch at the Burrow with me and my family, the amount of time he spends cleaning up afterwards is directly proportionate to the length of the match,” Ron said.

“Thanks for your help in getting everyone else out of the locker room,” Harry said.

“Wasn’t too difficult,” Terence said. “A round of drinks at the Three Broomsticks for the winning team even had the support of the headmistress.”

“Thank Merlin she loves her Quidditch,” Harry said.

“And right now, I’m loving the idea of a pint. Come on, Ron.” Terence headed to the door, and Ron followed.

“Good luck, mate,” Ron said to Harry.

Harry waited a moment or two more before leaving the broom shed. He didn’t know quite what to expect when he got to the locker room. With the possible exception of sixth year, Draco had always been immaculately groomed. Harry had a feeling that Draco might not appreciate being interrupted while he was putting himself back together. He reckoned he might as well chance it, though. Draco was already angry, so there would probably be no good time to try to talk to him.

He entered the locker room and found – nothing. Had Draco slipped out while Harry and the others had met in the broom shed? Damn, that would be just the luck. Harry would have to chase him down. Who knew if he was still at Hogwarts, or had decided to punish Harry further for something that was not his fault? Frankly, Harry’d had enough punishment for one day. Draco’s behavior on the pitch had been reckless, and one or both of them could have been hurt. Oh, they were both good enough on a broom that the chance of either of them actually losing control was minimal, but still.

The hiss of water coming out of a shower head intruded upon his thoughts – and got his immediate attention. Harry walked slowly and very quietly toward the shower area. He hesitated at the doorway. He had a thing or two he wanted to say to Draco, but if the man was naked it could seriously derail Harry’s ability to form words, let alone hold a conversation.

Cautiously, Harry peeked around the doorway. And there was Draco – in all his wet, naked glory. His back was to Harry and his hands were braced against the tiled wall, the water running in fascinating little trails down his body. Harry was riveted. As he continued to watch, Draco tilted his head back and water streamed from his wet hair, the weight of the water pulling it straight and making it seem longer than the collar length Harry knew it to be.

And then Draco shifted, spreading his feet further apart. Without conscious thought, Harry’s head fell sideways as he sought – oh yeah – and then found Draco’s balls. There was no doubt – Draco had a gorgeous, toned arse. But with his legs spread as they were, his balls hung like teasing fruit from a delicious vine.

“Careful there, Potter. You wouldn’t want to be caught ogling a student. What would the headmistress say?”

Harry had nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Draco’s voice. He somehow managed to recover his composure and moved farther into the room until he was standing just outside the shower stall and the spray of water. “I’d really rather you leave the headmistress out of this at the moment,” he said.

Draco looked over his shoulder. “You’re the one who needs to leave her out of this. But you won’t, will you? You’ll walk away from me, even now when I’m naked and hard and so ready for you, because she expects you to be a neutered drone.” Draco turned back to face the tiled wall. “There was a time when you’d buck the rules of Dumbledore himself if it was something you really wanted. What happened to Harry ‘the rules do not apply to me’ Potter? I rather miss him.”

Harry was stung by Draco’s words – mainly because they held a ring of truth. He had vast respect for Minerva McGonagall, and he was truly pleased to be working with her. But she had overreacted to the story in the _Prophet_ , and her resulting dictates – especially concerning her younger staff members – were unreasonable. Sometimes her love and regard for Hogwarts and its traditions led her to go to great lengths to protect the school when no protection was needed. It would take more than a few rumors, bad jokes, or the _Daily Prophet_ to take Hogwarts down.

Draco’s startled squeak when Harry grabbed him from behind was immensely gratifying. In an instant, they were standing in the bathroom in Harry’s quarters, and with little more than a gesture, water began to flow from the shower head. Harry guided Draco into the shower and began to strip off his own clothing.

The water brought him to his senses, but Draco was still sputtering as he asked, “Are we in your rooms?” Harry nodded as he threw his shirt aside and started to work on the fastenings of his trousers. “But… you can’t Apparate on school grounds.”

Harry, realizing that he still wore the leather leg guards of his Quidditch uniform, lost complete patience with the process of undressing at that point and wordlessly Vanished his clothing. He stepped into the shower with Draco, immediately slipping his arms around him and drawing him close. “The rules don’t apply to me, remember?”

For a few brief seconds, Draco looked at a loss for words. Then his smirk appeared, and he wrapped his arms around Harry. “Oh, that’s right. I’ve always liked that about you.”

“No, you haven’t,” Harry said, and began placing wet kisses along Draco’s neck.

“Well, perhaps not,” Draco admitted. “But I like it now.”

“I’d like it if you stopped talking now,” Harry said. “I’m trying to focus.”

“Mmmm… well, since you’re focusing on me… Oh!” Draco gasped when Harry’s hand slid down his arse, separating the cheeks to rake across his hole. Harry stroked his fingers across the opening, and Draco felt his legs grow weak. He tightened his grip on Harry and widened his stance. His head fell back and Harry once again attacked his throat with tongue and teeth and lips. Draco didn’t start talking again, but still managed to be somewhat vocal.

The hand that was not stroking his arse found its way to his cock. Harry seemed to want to give attention to all of Draco’s bits at once – and Draco loved every moment of it. Feeling he should reciprocate – and just a _tad_ bit guilty for his behavior during the match – Draco pondered which parts of Harry to fondle first. There were so many choice bits to choose from, and Draco had discovered that Harry was very sensitive.

Draco reached for the bottle of cleansing lotion on the nearby shelf and poured some into his hands. He flattened his palms on Harry’s shoulders and slid them down the sculpted chest. Harry wasn’t overtly muscular, but he was beautifully toned and the water and lotion allowed Draco a sensual slide to his destination – Harry’s nipples. Draco had barely brushed them, but Harry gasped and threw his head back. When Draco began to pinch the hard nubs, Harry let out a beautiful moan and thrust his hips forward, seeking friction for his cock.

Harry used the hand on Draco’s arse to pull him tight against his aching erection, and slipped his other hand into Draco’s hair, guiding him closer to bring their lips together. The shower made the kiss even wetter than it would have been, and need made it hot, deep, and desperate. Draco had slipped his hands around to Harry’s arse and aided in the effort to bring their lower bodies as close as possible. They rocked against each other, wet and hard and throbbing.

Harry’s fingers were prodding at Draco’s hole and his body was unable to decide between pushing back against them, or thrusting forward to stroke his cock against Harry’s. Both sensations were amazing, and Draco only knew he wanted more of everything. The fingers in his hair twisted and Harry gently pulled Draco’s head back a bit. Lips and tongue stroked across Draco’s ear, and the sound of Harry’s harsh breathing was incredibly erotic.

“Turn around,” Harry whispered. “Like you were in the locker room.”

Draco didn’t hesitate. He wanted Harry inside him and, once he had placed his hands on the wall, spread his legs and thrust his arse out. He immediately felt Harry go to his knees behind him and groaned when Harry spread his cheeks.

The water streamed into Draco’s cleft, catching and flowing across his beautiful hole. Harry lapped at the water and at Draco’s entrance. He stroked it with his tongue, reveling in the moans elicited by his ministrations. His fingers still teased the rim, working with his tongue to loosen Draco’s furled opening. Harry covered the hole with his mouth and sucked – then plunged his tongue inside.

Wet heat was thrust into him – Harry’s tongue was plundering, stroking inside him. It was dirty and perfect, and Draco was rocked by a powerful orgasm that left him quivering. When he could form coherent thought once more, he realized that Harry was standing again pressed against him. Sweet words were being whispered around light kisses placed on his shoulders, neck, face. Harry’s arms were around him holding him close and keeping him upright.

“You,” Draco whispered, his voice husky with need. “Inside me.”

A barely articulate Draco Malfoy was… unexpected, but very arousing. Harry wouldn’t have thought it would be possible for him to be more turned-on, but then he’d never had sex with Draco before. Then he decided to focus on feeling and not talking.

Though he knew that rimming Draco had loosened him, he cast a Lubrication Charm and slicked his cock. He placed his prick at Draco’s entrance and teased it a bit with the tip before pressing inside. Draco’s ragged breathing sounded almost like sobs. His back arched, and once more he tilted his hips toward Harry’s cock, seeming to try to draw it into him. Harry almost choked on the moan that escaped him at the sensation of sliding into Draco. He was too large to accomplish it without some small thrusts to work his way in, but that friction only made the process that much more arousing.

“Wait,” Draco said, his voice still a ragged whisper. “Been a while.”

As Harry waited, he reached around to fondle Draco’s cock. It had not fully recovered from his earlier orgasm and was only half hard. Harry moved his hand down further and cupped the lovely testicles that had so enticed him earlier. He rolled them in his hand, enjoying the sensation like soft crinkled velvet. Draco’s head fell back on Harry’s shoulder, obviously appreciative of this attention to his sensitive little globes. Harry felt Draco’s cock begin to harden again, and then he was pushing back, encouraging Harry to move.

Being inside Draco was heaven. Moving inside him was something beyond that, and for a few moments, Harry’s whole world seemed to narrow to his cock encased in tight, slick heat. Draco pressed back to meet his thrusts, and their moans mingled and echoed around them within the shower. Harry once more reached for Draco’s cock, this time finding it rock hard. He stroked it in time with his thrusts and soon Draco was coming again. Draco’s orgasm brought Harry to his own throbbing release. He muffled his cry against Draco’s shoulder as come pulsed from him in a seemingly endless stream.

When he finally pulled himself from Draco, it seemed that his energy had escaped through his cock as well. Somehow they managed to exit the shower and make a pass at drying each other. They were still somewhat wet when they fell into Harry’s bed, but neither seemed too concerned about it. They tangled together in blissful lassitude, and were asleep within minutes.

****

HDHDHDHD

Their lazy afternoon had drifted into evening. House-elves had provided food – which they ate in bed – and had been sent to retrieve Draco’s clothing from the locker room. Not that he’d had any use for clothing, since nudity best suited their activities.

“This is a comfortable room,” Draco said. He lay on his back in the middle of Harry’s large four-poster. Harry lay curled into him, head on Draco’s chest, half-dozing peacefully. Draco idly twined his fingers in the soft, dark almost-curls. The hair tickled his skin a bit, but it was a good tickle, so he didn’t mind. “Maybe I’ll just hide away in here, be your little secret. You’ll become dotty Professor Potter who spends every moment aside from class cloistered in his rooms.”

Harry roused himself from his comfy spot and lifted his head to look at Draco. He blinked sleepy eyes and said, “Are you offering to be my kept man?”

“Maybe,” Draco teased.

Harry put his head back down. “I don’t think I can afford you on my teacher’s salary.”

Draco pushed Harry off him. “Giving me up without a fight?” He poked Harry in the arm. “That’s becoming an alarming habit.”

“Who said I was giving you up? I was going to suggest you keep _me_ – set me up in that posh London flat of yours.” Harry rubbed his arm. “But what with _your_ alarming habit of abusing me, I may have to reconsider my options.” He rolled to his side, propped up on his arm, and looked down at Draco.

“You have no options. You will stay here and become the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher in the history of the school – though, admittedly, considering your predecessors, that’s not saying a whole hell of a lot. And you have no options regarding who ‘keeps’ you.” Draco rolled toward Harry and lifted a hand to caress his cheek. “Because that’s going to be me.”

“Okay,” Harry agreed easily. He leaned forward to meet Draco’s kiss, and they lost themselves in that very pleasant diversion for several minutes. Even after the kissing, they remained close, nuzzling faces and exchanging a light brush of lips. “Hmmm…” Harry’s sigh was contented. “I’m glad you’re keeping me.”

Draco gave a mock long-suffering sigh. “Well, someone’s got to, so it might as well be me. I’ve got nothing better to do at the moment.”

“Except study for your NEWT.” Harry was kissing Draco’s brow, fighting the tickling sensation of the blond fringe against his nose, when he noticed that Draco had not responded. He pulled back and looked at Draco. His expression seemed far too serious for their light-hearted conversation. “What’s wrong?”

Draco gave a small shake of his head. “Nothing.”

Harry sat up. “Draco…”

“Nothing,” he repeated. But Harry was looking at him so intently. Draco sat up, gathering the sheets about him. “Look…” He sighed, not really wanting to have this conversation just now, but knowing it was inevitable. “Harry, I know you’re going to, somehow, take this personally – and it is not at all anything to do with you, really.” Draco took another deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “I’m not going to worry about the NEWT anymore. It’s just not going to happen – and has nothing to do whatsoever with your teaching. You’re brilliant. But… I’ll never be able to grasp Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

Harry’s response was much more vehement than Draco anticipated. “That’s bollocks, Draco, and you know it! You are the smartest wizard I know. And you’re powerful, too. Do you think I can’t feel it? You _can_ do this!”

“Then why didn’t I?” Draco shouted.

There was an uneasy silence in the room for several long moments. Harry’s words had put him on the defensive. It was as if he was accusing Draco. As if he knew something – as if he knew Draco’s greatest fear.

Draco drew his knees up and hugged them against his chest. He studied his knees instead of looking up to meet Harry’s gaze. “If I can defend against the Dark Arts,” Draco said, his voice hardly more than a whisper, “why didn’t I?”

“Draco.” Harry reached a hand out to caress his shoulder, but Draco pulled away.

“No!” Draco still could not bring himself to look at Harry. The silence returned, before Draco broke it with a bitter laugh. “George is right, you know. I just bent over and begged Voldemort to have his way with me and my family. I didn’t even try to… question what was happening. Think for myself.”

Harry pulled his legs up against him, not really realizing he was mirroring Draco. He knew that Draco would not be pleased with what he had to say about this, but evidently the time to say it had come. “Well, if you think about it, how much questioning had you actually done up to that point?” Predictably, Draco’s eyes flashed defensively – at least he was looking at Harry now. Harry quickly continued. “Honestly, Draco. From the moment I met you, it was all about your father. ‘My father says’ or ‘my father believes’ and it was clear that you never questioned it.”

“Not _never_!” Draco insisted. “I did question things! I was just taught that the family was always to present a united front.” His defiance was short lived, and Draco slumped a little and his chin fell onto his knees. “I was allowed to question. But Father… he always had an answer. And I never met anyone who presented a compelling argument against his beliefs – even if I wished it.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “His was always the strongest voice in my mind.” Draco was silent for a moment, then finally lifted his head and looked again at Harry. “And my father believed that Voldemort was all-powerful, and that Dumbledore was a devious old fool who cared only for his chosen favorites.” Draco sighed again and shook his head. “These are all just excuses.”

“No they’re not,” Harry said. “They’re reasons.” Harry held his hand out and, without a word, Summoned Draco’s wand. It was a calculated action on his part. Draco responded to power. Regardless of what he felt for Harry, he would be more likely swayed by Harry’s considerable magical ability as much as what he said. Sure enough, Draco’s eyes widened just a bit at the display of non-verbal magic – despite the fact that, as Harry was well-aware, Draco could also perform a great number of spells non-verbally.

“That’s my wand,” Draco said, and winced a bit at the obviousness of the statement.

“Yes, it is,” Harry said. “And it’s quite an interesting combination of materials.” Harry brought the wand up and seemed to exam it as he continued talking. “Walnut suits you. As I mentioned in class, it’s for wizards who are very powerful. Did you know that walnut also has no clear inclination, one way or another, to light or dark magic? It seems very Slytherin in that way, to me.” He looked at Draco then, and gave him a small smile. Fortunately, Draco seemed to be listening intently and had not appeared to take offense at Harry’s comment about Slytherins. “Remember the very first time we walked into the Great Hall for the Sorting ceremony? The Sorting Hat sang the song about the houses, and I remember it said something about Slytherins using ‘any means to reach an end.’ At the time, I thought that was awful – kind of selfish, you know? But, now… I think what the Hat meant was more about… keeping options open. Slytherins have that ability to look at things clinically, without…”

“Scruples?” Draco provided, eyebrow raised.

Harry chuckled. “I was going to say without emotions.”

“I’m not sure that’s better, but it’s true,” Draco said.

“Well, anyway, it allows you to weigh options in a more clear-headed way.”

“More so than others – like Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs – who are hindered by those pesky morals. Is that what you’re trying to say?” Draco said wryly.

Harry grinned. “Pretty much, yeah. But the real point is, a Slytherin – and especially one who has within him qualities to attract a walnut wand – is going to act based upon logic, not emotion. Upon what is the best means to an end – the concept of light or dark magic, right or wrong, has nothing to do with it.” Harry paused and let Draco consider his words. “When Voldemort gave you the task of killing Dumbledore, did you want to do it?”

“Of course not! But what was I supposed to do? As far as I knew, Voldemort was invincible, and if I didn’t do it, he was going to kill me and my parents.”

“Exactly!” Harry said. “You did what you had to do to save your family. You did the logical thing and complied with Voldemort’s orders, believing that was the only thing that would keep you and your parents alive.”

Draco sighed. “I understand what you’re trying to say, but there are those who would argue that I should have been willing to die rather than agreeing to kill Dumbledore.”

Harry dismissed this. “You agreed to kill Dumbledore – but you didn’t really _try_ very hard to do it.” This time when Harry tried to touch him, Draco allowed it. “And when it came down to it, you chose not to. You lowered your wand.”

Harry’s hand lay on his knee. Draco hesitated, and then rested his cheek upon it. “But Harry, the point is I didn’t even try to resist him.”

“Because logically, you knew you couldn’t defeat him! Hell, Draco, logically _I_ shouldn’t have been able to defeat him. And you knew that, too. You never had any hope that anyone would be able to stop him.”

Draco lifted his head. “But others had hope, Harry. Other people believed in you.”

Harry shook his head. “But that belief was based ultimately on their confidence in Dumbledore. They believed I was ‘the Chosen One’ because he told them it was true. But you weren’t raised to believe that Dumbledore was this great wizard whose wisdom was not to be questioned. You looked at things without the sentimentality of Dumbledore’s devotees. And, logically, you looked at me and saw a scrawny little half-blood who seemed to disregard all the rules of your world.”

Silence hung between them again. Finally, Draco shook his head and said, “I don’t know, Harry.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I do know, then,” Harry said. “And you were right about the block. You’ve been afraid to let yourself be good at this – about what that might mean. So much so, that your mind… repressed your knowledge of something you, in fact, are quite adept at.” Harry squeezed Draco’s knee. “It doesn’t mean anything, Draco. You were, truly, up against something that you had no hope of defeating. And your defense in that situation was to do whatever you had to do to survive.” Harry leaned in to rest his forehead against Draco’s. “And, Merlin, I’m so glad you did.”

****

HDHDHDHD

They had spent the rest of the weekend sequestered in Harry’s rooms. Draco had asked that the discussion about anything DADA or NEWTs related be shelved until later, and Harry had not pressed the issue. He knew that Draco had to digest what had been said and come to grips with it, one way or another.

That’s why he reckoned he should not have been surprised to find, on Monday morning, a note in the place where Draco’s warm body should have been. He’d written that he needed time away to think about things.

As the week passed, Harry tried to convince himself that Draco had been referring only to the issue of his block against DADA. Still, doubt had crept in and, without further word from Draco, Harry had begun to fear that one of the things Draco needed to think about was whether or not he wanted to continue things between them. Yes, they had spent the weekend engaged in several rounds of world-rocking sex. And, Harry had been certain, had finally begun to discover each other – beyond the assumptions they had held onto for far too long. But everything was still so new, and Harry found he needed reassurance that Draco had not chosen to forget about what they had begun. Harry often found himself shaking his head when these thoughts threatened to close in on him, and imaging Draco saying ‘it’s not all about your cock!’ That was true, Harry knew. It was much more about his heart.

Friday had been a particularly bad day. It had begun with a complete disaster in his Potions class. Harry had never got round to asking Draco to help him with Potions. After that first day when he had promised to do whatever was necessary to help Draco attain his NEWT, Harry felt that it would have been selfish of him to ask Draco to give up time on his own studies for Potions tutoring. Still, Draco had seen Harry’s frustration with the subject and had often taken time to discuss what Harry was studying or give him tips about brewing. And with Draco gone and no word for several days, Harry was completely distracted. He tried to keep his major focus for his DADA classes. Potions was not something that he had to do, after all. The circumstances had been perfect for a Potions mishap. He’d almost had to cancel his DADA classes because of it. Even the magical balm that Madam Pomfrey had provided him had done little to relieve the itchy rash that had spread quickly over his entire body.

Saturday had brought another Quidditch match. The mix of players was switched up. Some who had not played last week were in the line-up for the second match. Some who had opposed each other in the first match were now teammates. Harry had signed up to play, hoping to take his mind off Draco. But he’d had to bow out, due to his rash – it was all he could do to stop himself from scratching, let alone concentrate on finding the Snitch. This had been met with disappointment from most of the other players, but Harry had overheard some muttering from a few that, given his performance in the last match and his ignominious loss to Draco Malfoy, his absence from the game might not be a bad thing.

He had spent the rest of Saturday itchy, miserable, and feeling somewhat sorry for himself. He had made a trip up to the Owlery and sent a message off to George, asking after Draco. That had only made him feel that much more pathetic. Sunday had seen him moping in his room, marking papers and ignoring his Potions homework.

On Monday, the morning owl post had brought a message from Bill, rather than George, reassuring Harry that Draco was alright and encouraging him to be patient. The message actually gave him very little information, but it did manage to lift his spirits a bit. He made it through Monday’s classes with more enthusiasm than he’d felt since Draco left – though he still itched terribly.

The evening meal was finished and Harry exited the Great Hall with Terence and Ron. They were discussing the news of the trade of Chudley Cannons’ Keeper Morris Humburton to the Caerphilly Catapults. Ron was expounding on what this would mean for his favorite team and who might be brought in as a replacement. Harry had been listening, but with his spirits once more flagging, was walking with his head down.

Suddenly he realized that Ron was no longer talking and that the other two were no longer beside him. And that someone was standing directly in his path. He looked up slowly, barely daring to hope that those expensive black boots and impeccable robes clothing the tall, slender form would belong to… yes! Draco Malfoy.

Draco’s grey eyes sparkled with true delight and Harry barely had time to smile before he was drawn into a hug. He didn’t hesitate to return the embrace, and the two stood for several moments in the middle of the Entrance Hall just holding each other. Harry knew there were people all around them, but he didn’t care. Draco was back.

“I’m glad that you’re happy to see me,” Draco said, laughter clear in his voice, “but perhaps you should save squirming like that until we have a little more privacy.”

Harry smiled against his shoulder. “Can’t help it. I’m itchy.”

“Itchy?” Draco asked

“I have a rash,” Harry said. He quickly found himself at arm’s length from Draco.

“A rash,” Draco said flatly. “You’re not contagious are you?”

Harry huffed. “Well… I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“He’s not,” Terence said from beside them. “You see before you what happens when a besotted Gryffindor is unable to focus in Potions class because his errant Slytherin boyfriend has left him high and dry.”

“A Potions accident?” Draco said. Harry nodded, looking somewhat petulant that Draco was still holding him away. Draco was unable to resist the pouty face and drew Harry back to him. “And have you prolonged your agony by refusing care?”

“No,” Harry said, nuzzling happily once more against Draco’s neck. “Madam Pomfrey gave me a balm. It’s just that the rash is everywhere, and it really itches.”

“Everywhere, hmm? Well, perhaps it’s time for another application of this balm.” Draco’s voice was husky with suggestion. “I’ll be happy to help you out with that.”

“Well, that’s my cue to move along,” Ron said and made a hasty retreat.

“Or maybe the two of you should,” Terence suggested. “The Entrance Hall is really no place for this sort of thing – and you’ll want to be on your way before the headmistress happens along.”

“Good point,” Harry said. He grabbed Draco’s hand and the two of them hurried toward the staircase. “Night, Terence!”

They were silent as they rushed to Harry’s quarters, but the minute they entered the rooms Harry had to ask. “Where have you been?”

Draco was pushing him toward the bedroom while trying to remove his clothes and Harry’s clothes and kiss Harry all at the same time. “Later,” was all he said.

When they were naked and Harry was lying back on the bed, Draco paused at the sight of the rash that, indeed, covered Harry’s body. “Are you sure that’s not contagious? Never mind. Where’s this balm you have?” Harry held out a hand and the jar came flying in from the bathroom. Draco took it from him and opened the lid. He sniffed cautiously. “Huh. Well, at least Madam Pomfrey gave you one that smells pleasant. Now,” he said, crawling onto the bed beside Harry, “let’s make you all better, shall we?”

“Please,” Harry said, swallowing hard at the thought of Draco smoothing the balm all over his body.

Draco was very thorough. There was hardly an inch of Harry that he had neglected. Well, except the several inches that now stood proudly, hard, and leaking pre-come. Draco sat between Harry’s spread legs, enjoying the intoxicating sight of Harry, legs fallen apart, cock rock hard and gorgeous, panting in his desperation for Draco to touch his prick. Draco sat just far enough away that Harry was not able to touch him, so – in frustration – he had started touching himself. He stroked and pinched his sensitive nipples, moaning at the feel of it. Draco was practically ready to come just watching him.

“Come on, Draco,” Harry begged. “Touch my cock, please!”

Draco moved forward and blew on Harry’s cock, reveling in the way he bucked his hips in response and moaned loudly. “And what about my cock?” Draco asked getting to his knees and displaying his length, stroking it for Harry to see.

Harry was breathing heavily, making speech somewhat difficult. Still, he managed to say, “You’ve got a whole pot of magical balm there, don’t you? I’m sure you can think of some practical use for it. And you’d better do it soon, damn it!”

Draco chuckled, but decided that further teasing of Harry would only result in his own frustration. He slicked the balm along his cock, then positioned himself at Harry’s entrance. As he pushed inside he took hold of Harry’s cock and stroked him. Harry’s cry might have been at the intrusion or at the relief of finally having attention paid to his prick – or both. The way he was pumping his hips made Draco believe he was feeling more pleasure than pain. When he was buried completely inside Harry, Draco paused and just stroked him. Very soon Harry was writhing on the bed, making the most deliciously erotic noises Draco had ever heard.

Finally, Harry could take no more. “Move, damn it! Pound me!”

Draco complied and began a hard, fast thrusting that had them both wailing loudly. It just felt too good to hold back. Harry was had locked his legs around Draco’s hips and was lifting to meet every thrust, riding that hard, hot cock.

“Harry!” Draco was losing control and knew he wouldn’t last much longer. When he called Harry’s name, those brilliant green eyes locked on his and he felt drawn into Harry’s soul every bit as much as he was inside his body. He came, shouting his orgasm and almost feeling that he had come again when Harry clenched around him and spurted his own release.

Recovery was long in coming, and since they were in no real rush to separate, it didn’t seem to matter. Draco lay atop Harry, still inside him and basking in the feel of it. Harry hummed happily and was content to just lie there, full of Draco.

Finally, Draco rose up on his elbows, still not separating their lower bodies. “Hey, guess what?”

“What?” Harry asked, a soft smile on his glowing face.

“I took my NEWT for Defense Against the Dark Arts this morning, and I’m pretty certain that I passed it.”

Harry’s smile widened and he drew Draco back down to kiss him enthusiastically. After a few moments, his whole body began to squirm. Draco lifted his head and looked down at Harry.

“Are you itching again?” he asked.

“Terribly!” Harry said. “Reckon I need a bath and then another coating of that balm.”

Draco lifted away and eased out of Harry. He was hard again and they both shuddered at the feel of the ridges of his engorged cock sliding against Harry’s sensitive rim. When he was all the way out, they both paused for a moment before they could rise from the bed. Draco stood first and offered a hand to Harry to help him up.

Harry led the way to the bath, and Draco saw again how completely the rash covered his body. “It’s a good thing I returned,” he said. “Obviously, you need someone to see you through Potions without further catastrophe.”

“But, now that you’ve passed your NEWT –”

“Maybe,” Draco interjected.

“Probably,” Harry assured him, as he turned on the tap to fill the bath. “Won’t you be going back to Gringotts to work with Bill?”

“Well, I had arranged to have the summer off to attend A.R.S.E.H. Unless you object, I really thought I might just hang around here and help you with Potions.”

Harry was thoughtful as he took two towels from the cupboard. “Well, you’d no longer be a student here, so the headmistress can’t object to our seeing one another. Of course, I don’t know the policy on staff members having guests. But… if we just don’t mention it to anyone... maybe she won’t notice.”

Draco pulled Harry to him. “I don’t care if the headmistress notices or not. In fact, Headmistress McGonagall can kiss my arse!”

Harry grinned. “That’s my job. And I use tongue.”

“And very effectively, I must say,” Draco said, laughing. “Now, let’s get on with this bath so we can then get on with other things.”

“Potions?” Harry asked.

“Well, I was thinking more along the lines of wandlore,” Draco said. “You seem to like examining my wand.”

Harry laughed again. “Yeah,” he said. “I really do.”

As it turned out, they didn’t wait for the bath to be finished before the examination of wands began.

 

The End

 **A/N:** The prompt called for the inclusion of a walnut wand with hippogriff feather core. So, I got to do some research on wandlore (and I'm a nerd, so I loved that)! So, these are the links to the sites I used to gather some information:  
[Olivander's Wands](http://www.diagonalley.5u.com/ollivanders/meaning.html)  
[Lucy and Lily's Wands](http://landlwands.webs.com/wandwoods.htm)

 

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Comments are very much appreciated. :)


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